


take from me

by ymorton



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: M/M, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-30 04:25:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17216942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymorton/pseuds/ymorton
Summary: “Just think about it,” Tommy says. “Let’s call it a standing offer. You ever feel like getting it out of the way, you let me know.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much to valencing/threeturn for reading this over and over as i cobbled it together and whined and complained. thank you for being so kind, thoughtful, and generous with your time. i appreciate you very much. 
> 
> ALSO please, please do not share this with any of the real people involved. it is 100% fake. please be nice! just let us have our weird little hobbies it's the end times we need it!
> 
> About 4k of this fic has already been posted separately, so if it looks familiar, that's why.

On Sunday morning Tommy wakes up late and slow, strangely not hungover even though he’s pretty sure he polished off a bottle of Svedka the night before. He stretches happily in his sheets, smiling up at the ceiling. They had dinner out last night, a whole group of people, and then they went to Jon’s and got drunk and totally trashed the place. If Tommy were a good friend he’d go over there to help clean up, but he’s not, and he’s sleepy, so he stays put.

Tommy hasn’t had a real night out since his promotion. They took shots and played Never Have I Ever and Ali Campoverdi got wasted and made out with Jon in the kitchen. Even _Lovett_ played, and he usually avoids drinking games like the plague. Tommy snorts. Lovett was kicking ass until Adam and Jon teamed up on him with a bunch of gay stuff, and then he got-

Tommy sits up in bed. Holy _shit_ , he almost forgot. He scrambles upright and pulls a shirt on.

When he rounds the corner to the kitchen, Lovett looks up from where he’s slurping a bowl of cereal on the couch, eyes bloodshot.

“Good morning,” he says with his mouth full. “How hungover are you? Because my answer to that question is very. Very hungover.”

Tommy points at him. His head’s spinning from getting out of bed too fast. “You’re a virgin.”

Lovett swallows his bite and says, incredulously, “What?”

“You didn’t drink last night. When Adam said he hadn’t had butt sex. You didn’t drink. You pretended you were going to but then you _didn’t_.”

“You were wasted, Tommy, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes I do! I saw you! Everyone else was watching Ali but I saw you.”

“Oh, so you were _watching_ me? While Adam was talking about- about gay sex, you were watching me? The only gay guy in the room? This feels like sexual harassment. This feels _targeted_.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I should report this to my boss.”

“Your boss was sitting right there at the same party, dude.” Tommy snorts. “Probably wondering if a girl’s finger up his ass counts as butt sex.”

Lovett’s jaw drops and Tommy doubles over laughing.

“Has he actually- oh my God, I don’t want to know. That image is going to be in my mind forever, Tommy. I hate you.”

“Don’t change the subject.” Tommy shakes a finger at him. “You didn’t drink.”

Lovett stares at him with hard eyes.

“Fine,” he says after a second, putting his chin up. “I didn’t drink. You’re right. Good job, Detective Vietor.”

“So you’re a virgin,” Tommy says triumphantly.

“Yep. Sure. By your bullshit hetero definition, sure.” Lovett narrows his eyes. “Why do you even care?”

“I don’t! I mean. I don’t. I’m just surprised. Like you’ve _never_ -”

“You know that gay people can have sex in other ways, right? Please tell me you know that.”

“But they also do it- that way.” Tommy has the feeling he’s losing this argument. “The way Adam said. You’ve never tried it? What about with like- like a boyfriend?”

Lovett looks at him stubbornly.

“I’ve never had a real boyfriend,” he says. “Is that a problem for you? Does that _bother_ you, Tommy? You seem pretty worked up.”

Tommy sputters. “Uhh, no?”

“Listen, it’s different for gay people. The entire timeline is different. We don’t all rush to get engaged in our early 20s like you people do. You couldn’t even begin to understand what it’s like so you should probably just mind your own fucking business-”

“Dude, I just said I don’t have a problem with it. Jesus. Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

Lovett’s voice rises. “Plus it’s not exactly like you’re happily married, are you? Glass houses, Tommy.”

Tommy laughs because that’s easier than getting mad. He knows there’s no point in getting mad. “Careful, Lovett.”

“Or what, you’re gonna punch me?” Lovett glares at him. “Start your day with a nice gay-bashing?”

“God, you’re a pain in the ass sometimes. You know that?”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Are you fucking-“ Tommy’s so pissed he can’t finish. He gives Lovett the finger and storms out of the room. When he’s slammed and locked his bedroom door, he flops down on his bed and digs out his phone, huffing out a breath. Jesus, sometimes he swears living with Lovett turns him back into the shitty little teenager he was fifteen years ago. But it’s _Lovett_ ’s fault, not his.

 _Remind me why I live with Lovett._ he texts to Jon, before he sits up and grabs for his laptop.

Jon responds fast. He must be procrastinating something.

_Because you can’t pay rent on your own and you didn’t want to live with some weirdo from Craigslist?_

Tommy groans. _I’d take the Craigslist weirdo right about now._

_Haha. What’d he do_

Tommy stares at his Blackberry. _He’s a virgin and he’s being a little bitch about it_ doesn’t really sound great. Lovett’s annoying, yeah, but Tommy’s not about to expose him like that.

 _Just being a little shit_ , he sends back. _Worse than usual_

He opens his laptop and hits the space bar a couple more times than necessary. It opens onto the white paper on Tibet he was supposed to finish reading by Friday. Shit.

Jon texts back and Tommy grabs it eagerly.

_Please don’t kill him. He has a draft due this week._

Tommy snorts. _I’ll try my best_.

\-----

He waits until he hears the front door shut before he ventures out of his room.

The kitchen’s clean- well, Lovett-level of clean, which means the dishes are done except for the crusty frying pan they’ve both been avoiding washing for days, and the counters have been halfheartedly swiped with a wet paper towel. There’s an open Poptart packet on the counter with one still inside. Tommy picks it up, sniffs it, and then takes a bite. Brown sugar cinnamon, his favorite.

 _Thanks for breakfast_ , he sends on his way to the gym. He knows that’s the closest Lovett’ll get to an apology.

Lovett doesn’t respond but he’s nice that night, ordering enough Thai takeout for both of them, even letting Tommy watch some football- on mute, but still. It’s nice.

“You know what?” Tommy says after the Patriots lose. Lovett’s on the couch next to him, robotically putting a chip in his mouth every four seconds while he types with one hand. How does he even chew that fast?

“Hm,” Lovett says, not looking up.

“You need to get laid.”

Lovett stops eating chips. He looks up, slowly, eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. It’s 2011, okay, it’s a new year. It can be your New Year’s Resolution.”

“It’s almost February.”

“So what? There’s no time limit on resolutions.”

“It’s literally in the name. It’s for New Year’s. As in, January 1st.” Lovett crunches a chip triumphantly like he clearly won that argument. “Plus, I don’t make resolutions. _Plus,_  my sex life is none of your business.”

“What sex life?”

Lovett glares at him again. “Drop it, Tommy.”

Oh, Tommy’s not planning to drop it. He reaches over for a chip. “I can help you. I can be your wingman.”

“What did I just say?”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. We can go to a gay bar. Come up with some kinda plan.”

“Is this all just a ruse so you can hook up with a guy? Because that’s cool, Tommy, I accept you, welcome to the club, but don’t drag me into it.”

Tommy forces a laugh. “This isn’t about me.”

“You sure?”  

“ _Yes._ ” Tommy nudges his shoulder against Lovett’s. “Come on, man. It’s time. You’re almost thirty.”

“I’m 28!”

“That’s pretty close!”  

“Two years is not pretty close. Don’t project your thirty-ness onto me.”

“I’m just saying, I could help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“But we could-”

“ _Tommy_. Stop.” Lovett snaps his laptop shut. “Seriously, stop, it’s not funny anymore.”

Tommy shuts up. He stares at the silent TV, feeling stupid.

“Just drop it,” Lovett says, a little softer. “Okay?”

“Fine.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“And I told you I don’t want your fucking help.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Tommy breathes. “Sorry.”

Lovett puts his laptop aside and says, “I’m going to bed.”

“Fine,” Tommy mutters again. It’s immature, he knows, but as soon as Lovett stands up he cranks the volume on the TV, post-game presser blaring. That almost always makes Lovett react, but this time he doesn’t. He just gets himself a glass of water and goes quietly into his room, leaving Tommy alone.

\-----

Tommy assumes the topic has been officially dropped until Lovett texts him two weeks later, when Tommy’s sitting at his desk at 9PM on a Friday night.

 _I am going home with someone_ , the text says. _This is a photo of him in case you have to identify him to the police after he murders me._

Next is a blurry photo of some guy with dark hair and glasses and big ears. Tommy lets out a hysterical snort and Rob looks over from his cubicle.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Tommy says, waving him off. “Nothing. I’m going crazy, I need to get out of here.”

“Same. Ugh.”

They lapse back into silence and Tommy reads the texts again, laughing silently.  

_Did you just secretly take his picture you freak Hahaha_

Lovett doesn’t respond for ten minutes and then he sends, _You’re going to feel bad reading that text out loud in court if I die._

Tommy cracks up again and Rob says, “Stop fucking giggling over there, Vietor.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

_What’s his name and where are you guys going? Be careful. USE PROTECTION_

Lovett doesn’t respond til Tommy’s finally out of the White House and walking to the train.

_His name is Josh and he lives in Georgetown. He has not tried to murder me yet, will keep you posted_

Tommy bites his lip in a grin and stares at his phone til he almost trips over a curb. He shoves it in his pocket and looks up, smiling. Good for Lovett. If he gets a boyfriend maybe he won’t be so snippy all the time. Maybe he’ll get out more, let Tommy have the apartment to himself. That’s just what Tommy needs, more time alone. More time to reflect. He lets out a miserable laugh and starts jogging to the train stop.

\-----

“No way,” Tommy says, when the door opens at midnight. “No _way_.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” Lovett grumbles, locking the door behind him and kicking off his shoes.

“What are you doing back here? You’re not supposed to be home til tomorrow morning, dude! What happened?”

“None of your business, Thomas.”

“Did you just leave right after? That’s cold, Lovett.”

Lovett gives him a look. “We did not have sex.”

“Why not? I thought he was into you!”

“He wasn’t into _me_.” Lovett flops down on the couch. “He was into a job at the White House.”

Tommy winces. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve been there. I don’t know why people think we could ever get them jobs at the White House. We’re fucking peons.”

“Speak for yourself, Tommy.” Lovett sighs. “But yeah. Also he was obsessed with Jon and kept asking me about him.”

Tommy snorts. “Yeah, I’ve been there too.”

“It’s terrible. And Jon’s so nice you can’t hate him for it.” Lovett grabs the remote from the ottoman and starts flicking through channels.

“Eh,” Tommy says with a shrug. “You can hate him a little.”

Lovett looks over at him, smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

“Here,” he says, handing Tommy the remote. “It’s midnight on a Friday, there can’t be football on at this hour.”

“Ooh, actually, I think there might be a replay of the Pats game-”

“Shut up.” Lovett elbows him and settles into a corner of the couch, pulling a blanket over himself. “Pick something good.”

Tommy flips channels until Lovett makes a sleepy sound of approval, and then he turns the volume up.

\-----

So Lovett doesn’t get a boyfriend, and he’s home all the time, every weekend. Tommy only minds it when he brings a girl back to their place, which he’s done less since his promotion. Finding someone to hook up with takes time and energy he really doesn’t have.

But Lovett’s good about it. He goes straight to his room and doesn’t complain if they make some noise. Sometimes he even makes enough coffee for all of them, and one morning Tommy comes out from the shower to find Lovett in the kitchen making a girl double over with laughter.

That night Tommy stays in and they polish off a six-pack and play video games until midnight. Lovett’s just nodding off when Tommy nudges him and says, “You know what?”

“What?”

“You’d totally kill it if you were straight,” Tommy says. “Like, you’d be getting it like, all the time.”

Lovett looks over at him, unamused.

“That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said, Tommy. And there’s some stiff competition.”

“You would! Girls like funny guys.”

“So how do _you_ get laid?”

“Ha ha,” Tommy says, shoving him. “See, like that. You’re funny. And a dick. Girls like that.”

“Can we stop talking about this?”

“Have you ever kissed a girl?”

“God. No. _Stop._ ” Lovett glares at him. “You don’t just get to ask me that. Have you ever kissed a guy? See, do you like that? Is that fun?”

“No, I haven’t,” Tommy says thoughtfully. “Though one time I was supposed to kiss Jon during Spin the Bottle, and I was like, ready to do it. But then he chickened out.”

Lovett makes a strangled sound and goes back to his phone. Tommy watches him.

“You’ve kissed a guy, right?” he says.

"Tommy." 

“I’m just curious! I’m not judging you.”

Lovett groans through his teeth. “Of course I’ve kissed a guy. _Multiple_ guys. Many.”

“How many?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“You’re the one who said multiple, dude. Are we talking like, two, or are we talking like a hundred?”

“A _hundred_?” Lovett looks over at him, aghast. “Where would I even find the time?”

“So, closer to two?”

Lovett sucks in an enraged breath. Tommy waits him out.

“Fine,” he says tightly. “Fine. Six. I’ve kissed six guys.”

“Okay. See, that’s all I wanted to know.”

“But that’s not- I’ve still hooked up with more people than that. Way more people.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow and says nothing.

“Like- I didn’t kiss all of them. Some guys don’t want to kiss.” Lovett rolls his eyes. “Jesus, that sounds even sadder, doesn’t it?”

“Kinda,” Tommy says honestly.

“Shut up.”

Tommy laughs softly, sipping his beer.

“I like to kiss,” he says. “I mean, when I hook up with someone. I don’t think I’ve ever hooked up with someone without kissing them.”

“Well, that’s different. You’re straight.” Lovett’s eyes drop to Tommy’s mouth for a second before he coughs and looks away. “And you have good skin. The skin makes all the difference.”  

“Your skin’s fine,” Tommy says, looking it over. It’s fine. It’s not like smooth and glowing like a model or some shit, but it’s fine. It’s serviceable. It covers his skull.

“Shut up,” Lovett says again, irritably. He covers his face with both hands. “My skin sucks, and I don’t need some dewy-faced Von Trapp child lying to me about it.”

Tommy snorts, leans his head against the couch.

“If we ever hooked up I would totally kiss you. Fuck all those other guys.”

Lovett groans into his hands. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“Oh, what am I allowed to say?”

“Don’t say _if we ever hooked up_. We’re not going to hook up.”

Tommy shrugs. “I would. I mean, don’t people make marriage pacts and stuff? If we’re both single in thirty years, we’ll-”

“What are you _talking_ about?”

“I mean, we could. If you don’t get laid in, say, a month, I could do the honors.”

Lovett stares at him. “But you’re not gay.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“And I have a dick. I mean, I’m a guy. And I’m- me. And you’re you.”

“This is an airtight argument, Lovett. Wow.”

“So why would you-” Lovett blinks a few times and then his eyes narrow. “Wait, are you making fun of me?”

“You know you’re paranoid, right? Not everyone’s out to get you.”

“But you’re like weirdly obsessed with this. It feels like a prank. Is this a prank?”

“It’s not a prank.” Tommy puts a hand over his heart. “Sometimes your wildest dreams just really do come true, Lovett.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“I’m kidding!” Tommy shoves him over into the couch, laughing. “I’m kidding.”

Lovett rights himself, straightening his shirt with a huff. “That’s not funny. You’re not a funny person.”

“I’m serious about the sex though. Why not?”

“There are about a billion reasons why not.”

“It wouldn’t have to be a big deal. You could just- get it out of the way. Maybe that’s your problem, is you think of it as this huge thing. Dudes can sense that.”

“I _don’t_ think of it as some huge thing.”

“So why haven’t you done it yet?”

Lovett lets out a sharp laugh. “Tommy, I don’t know how to explain to you that it’s less about what I want and more about what other people _don’t_ want.”

“Oh come on. It’s not like you’re some kind of troll. You’re cute.”

Lovett shuts his eyes and inhales deeply, fists clenching. “Tommy-”

“Just think about it,” Tommy says. “Let’s call it a standing offer. You ever feel like getting it out of the way, you let me know.”

A muscle in Lovett’s jaw clenches and he says, heavy with sarcasm, “Thanks, Tommy.”

“No problem!” Tommy says cheerily, snorting when Lovett gives him a look. “You wanna play another round?”

\-----

Tommy clicks the mouse ten times, shoves it away with a groan. Fuck. You’d think in the fucking White House at least, the computers would work.

His Blackberry buzzes in his pocket, and he steels himself for some constructive criticism on his morning press release. It wasn’t his best.

But it’s from Lovett. Tommy smacks the mouse again, uselessly, rolls his eyes and clicks open the message.

_FUCK this day. I’m leaving at 7. I need drinks. Come out with us_

“Us” is probably Jon and Adam and maybe Sarah. Tommy rocks back in his chair, thinking about it. He was going to go to the gym at six, grab dinner, and then come back to the office. But God, a night off sounds good.

 _Can we do 7:30?_ , he sends back. _So much shit to get done._

Lovett’s reply is quick.

_Favs says yes. See you later_

\-----

“Drinks” ends up being at least a dozen people and tequila shots, for some reason, on a weeknight. Tommy’s not sure why but he’s not a buzzkill, so he takes a couple, ends up staggering home with Lovett sharing a bag of Doritos from 7-11. It’s not the worst night he’s ever had.

“You going to bed?” he asks, as he locks the front door behind them.

Lovett’s unzipping his jeans, sighing with relief as he kicks them off. “What time’s it?”

“Like-” Tommy peers at his watch. “Like ten?”

Lovett shrugs. “Let’s watch something.”

They flop down on the couch but Tommy can’t find the remote and Lovett’s no help, sitting there sticking his wet fingers into the Doritos bag and licking them. After a minute Tommy gives up looking and just watches him, shaking his head.

“You’re disgusting.”

Lovett makes a face and shakes the rest of the bag into his mouth. He licks his fingers again, glaring at Tommy, and for some reason Tommy says, “You wanna make out?”

Lovett chokes on crumbs. “What? Are you kidding?”  

Tommy shrugs. He’s still warm and buzzing from the liquor and he can’t find the stupid remote. What else is there to do?

Lovett’s eyes go dark when Tommy doesn’t say anything.

“Yeah,” he says, voice hoarse, and he tosses the Doritos bag aside and leans forward. Everything goes quiet when they get their mouths together. Lovett’s squirmy under him, laughing tipsily, until Tommy holds his face steady with both hands and then he nearly knees Tommy in the stomach, backs away on the sofa.

“What?” Tommy asks, breathless. 

“Don’t hold my head like that,” Lovett snaps, brushing himself off.

“Like how?”

“Like I can’t move! What is this, 50 Shades of Grey? Are you gonna handcuff and like- gag me next?”

“If you can’t shut the fuck up,” Tommy says mildly.

“Fuck off,” Lovett spits, clambering onto Tommy’s lap, wiping his fingers on his shirt before he reaches for Tommy’s face. “Kiss me like a normal person.”

“Can I touch your face at all? Should I sit on my hands?”

Lovett huffs an annoyed groan and leans down to kiss him again.

The room is hushed without Lovett’s voice. Tommy notes that, amused, and then Lovett slips his tongue in Tommy’s mouth and Tommy reaches up for his face again, like an instinct. He remembers at the last minute and touches him gently, knuckles grazing his cheek. Lovett murmurs into his mouth.

“Okay?” Tommy mumbles against him and Lovett just kisses him harder, digging his fingers into Tommy’s hair. Tommy takes it as a yes, so he cups Lovett’s chin, very softly, and strokes his thumb over his jaw.

When Lovett pulls back he looks- shy, maybe.

“Better?” Tommy asks. “Up to your standards?”

Lovett’s throat works in a swallow and he says, “We should go to your room.”

Tommy grins. He’ll take that as a yes.

\-----

Lovett stands in the doorway complaining about Tommy’s messy room for a minute until Tommy gets him out of his shirt and down on his back and starts kissing him again.

God, Lovett feels good. He’s so small and hot under Tommy, kissing him eagerly, but he keeps scraping his teeth against Tommy’s bottom lip. Tommy doesn’t know if he’s doing it on purpose or not but it fucking _hurts_. He licks hard inside Lovett’s mouth, slides his hands up Lovett’s arms and presses his wrists down into the bed.

Lovett breaks off from the kiss, head thunking back against the mattress.

“Stop,” he chokes, body twisting, arms flexing in Tommy’s grip. Tommy holds him for a second more out of instinct and then lets go, lifts his hands. Lovett smacks his arm and wriggles out from under him.

“Stop!”

Tommy’s breathless. “What?”

“Don’t fucking hold me down!”

“I didn’t mean to-“

“What the fuck, Tommy. I didn’t ask you to do that, God.”

He slides off the bed. Tommy sits back on his heels, swallowing hard.

“Lovett,” he says. Lovett pulls on his shirt, quick and jerky. “Lovett. Wait.”

“I don’t feel like it anymore,” Lovett snaps, back to him. “This was a stupid idea.”

“Wait,” Tommy says, climbing off the bed. “Wait. Can you just wait one second? Dude, I was just- I didn’t mean to, like, freak you out-“

Lovett turns to glare at him. “You didn’t freak me out.”

“Lovett. I won’t do that again, okay? I thought you’d like it. Sorry.”

He goes hot at the words. Lovett turns around.

“Because I’m short and you’re, like, a 7 foot tall lacrosse bro with biceps? You think I automatically have some creepy fantasy of being held down?”

“I don’t know! Some people like it! I didn’t like surprise choke you or something, Christ, I barely even touched you-“

“Are you into that stuff?”

“Sometimes! I don’t know!”

“Because I’m not.”

“Okay! Okay. I didn’t mean to.”

Lovett huffs and starts to turn again.

“So you’re just gonna leave?” Tommy asks. “Because I did something you didn’t like for three seconds? No wonder you haven’t gotten laid.”

Lovett pauses with his hand on the doorknob.

“I mean, what do you _want_ to do?” Tommy asks, quickly.

He’s fully expecting Lovett to slam the door on his way out and not talk to Tommy for three days. Instead he turns around, slowly.

“Jerk off,” he says.

Tommy huffs a laugh. “What?”

“Jerk off. Touch yourself.” Lovett looks determined now. “Right now, in front of me. That’s what I want.”

“Dude.”

“You asked what I want to do, Tommy.“

“At least help me out then. You have to have given a handjob at least.“

“I’m not going to touch you,” Lovett says. His eyes are bright, latched on to the idea now. “I’m just going to watch.”

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“Nope,” Lovett says. “Come on.”

Tommy stares at him, eyes narrowed. Lovett’s probably expecting him to get spooked and back out.

“Fine,” he says, sitting down on the bed. He unzips his jeans and watches Lovett’s throat bob in a swallow. “You wanna see my dick? Is that what this is about?”

Lovett crosses his arms over his chest and says nothing.

Tommy lifts his hips, tugs his underwear down and pulls himself out. “There. Happy now?”

Lovett’s still silent, mouth shut tight, though his eyes dip between Tommy’s legs for a split second and Tommy’s stomach clenches in hot anticipation. He wants Lovett to look at him. He wants Lovett to kneel in front of him and put his mouth on it.

“Come _on_ , help me out,” he whines, shifting on the bed, and Lovett says, “Do it.”

Tommy’s not a prude, but he’s never done this in front of anyone. Even with Katie, if he had to take care of himself he did it in the bathroom, or at least while she was sleeping. For a second he wants to pull his pants up and kick Lovett out of his room, but he’d never fucking hear the end of it.

“Fine,” he says, trying not to sound nervous. “Feel free to take notes.”

Lovett rolls his eyes. His face is impassive until Tommy starts to stroke himself and then his eyes flicker and he bites his lip hard. It’s addictive to watch his face watch Tommy, to watch him try not to react. It makes Tommy so fucking hard in his hand, so desperate for it that he actually makes some noise as it starts to feel good. Fuck it feels good. He has this urge to look down and shut his eyes, to hide, but instead he keeps staring right at Lovett, focusing on him as his body starts to tighten up. Lovett’s face is slowly flushing.

“You like that?” Tommy asks, breathless.

Lovett swallows hard.

“You fucking like that,” Tommy says. Lovett likes cock and he likes Tommy’s cock, he can’t stop looking at it. Tommy bets he’d do so much more than look. He strokes faster thinking about that, all the ways Lovett could take him. His mouth. His hand. His ass, _fuck_. Tommy moans, getting close, until finally he has to shut his eyes so he can finish.

Lovett’s quiet except his shaky little breaths. Tommy’s the loud one, groaning as he comes, embarrassing in the silent room. When he opens his eyes again Lovett’s staring between his legs, looking shell-shocked, still flushed pink. It gives Tommy a little shiver and he grins as he reaches for a tissue to clean up.

“Now how about you?” he says, tossing the Kleenex vaguely towards the trashcan. “C’mere.”

Lovett stumbles forward a couple steps, til Tommy can slide an arm around his waist. He pulls Lovett closer by the small of his back.

“Tommy-”

“You liked that, huh? Watching? Did that turn you on?”

“You wish,” Lovett says faintly. Tommy can see his hard-on in his boxers. He feels reckless now, wanting to hang onto the high, so he puts his sticky hand up the leg of Lovett’s shorts. Lovett sucks in a breath, bracing himself on Tommy’s shoulder. Fuck, his skin is soft, and so warm. Tommy’s breath catches in excitement.

“Tommy,” Lovett says again. His voice is strained like he’s holding himself very, very tightly.

“You gonna jerk off for me now? It’s only fair, dude. I showed you mine.”

“No fucking way,” Lovett chokes out. Tommy reaches further, until he’s cupping Lovett’s nuts in his hand. Lovett’s hairy down there, more than Tommy. He’s trembling, fingers digging into Tommy’s arm, like he can barely stand up.

Tommy runs his fingers up, over the slick head of Lovett’s dick, and Lovett inhales sharply.

“Hard _and_ wet,” Tommy murmurs. “You really liked that. Who knew you were such a little pervert, Lovett.”

“Tommy,” Lovett says, breathless. “Tommy-”

“Yeah?” Tommy says, slowly, as he drags his hand up Lovett’s dick. “What’s up?”

“What’s- what’s-” Lovett staggers closer and Tommy catches his weight. “What’s _up_?”

Tommy laughs, taking his hand out of Lovett’s shorts. He checks for stray pubes and then licks his palm all over. When he looks up Lovett’s staring at him, wide-eyed.

“What are you _doing_ ,” he says, voice breaking.

“What do you think?” Tommy asks, licking his hand again, slower this time. “I’m gonna jerk you off.”

“Tommy, I- I don’t, I-” Lovett stops when Tommy slides his hand into his boxers again. His eyes squeeze shut, and Tommy grins and starts stroking him. It’s fun to get Lovett to shut up.

Turns out it’s impossible to get the right angle with Lovett fucking twitching away from him every two seconds so Tommy pulls him down onto the bed, tips him onto his back and kneels over him. That’s easier, better. Lovett starts gasping as soon as Tommy starts pulling his dick again. Tommy looks up once, to see if he likes it, and Lovett catches his eye and immediately puts a hand over his face.  

“Don’t,” he says.

“What?”

“Don’t look at me, don’t- oh- _God_ , Tommy, fuck, fuck.”

Tommy moves faster. Lovett flops an arm out and grabs a pillow to shove over his face.

“Dude-”

“Don’t stop,” Lovett chokes, muffled. His dick is so hard in Tommy’s hand, pulsing and hot. Tommy hunches over and goes as fast as he can, breathless, arm aching with effort. He can feel Lovett tensing up, waiting for it, until finally he beats his fist on the bed and whimpers into the pillow as he spurts on his stomach.

Tommy lets go, kind of amazed at himself. He just jerked off another guy. He just made Lovett _come._ He reaches out and rolls the wet head of Lovett’s dick between two fingers, and Lovett whines and gasps, one leg kicking out to the side.

Tommy gently pulls the pillow away, laughing when Lovett tries to tug it back.

“Hey,” Tommy says, tossing it aside. Lovett looks up at him, face red, eyes watery. “Stop with the stupid pillow.”

Lovett lets out a choked laugh and puts his arm over his face instead. He lies there for a second and then rolls over onto his stomach with a thump.

“Oh- _dude_ ,” Tommy protests. “You’re gonna get jizz on my sheets.”

Lovett just mumbles into the duvet and reaches down to wiggle his boxers up over his hips.

“You’re washing those.”

Lovett turns his head. “Absolutely not.”

Tommy smacks his ass and laughs when Lovett lifts his head and gives him a scathing look.

“Never do that again.”

“Ohh, never do that again,” Tommy mocks. He feels giddy for some reason, so light he can’t stop grinning. Lovett rolls over onto his back and looks at him suspiciously.

“What are you laughing at? Are you laughing at me?”

“No,” Tommy says, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, Lovett, we’ve talked about this. I’m not out to get you. I’m-” he snorts. “I’m out to get you _off._ ”

“Hilarious.”

“Thank you. I thought so too.”

Lovett pushes himself up on his elbows. “This won’t get weird, right?”

“Of course it won’t get weird.”

“You promise? I don’t want to find another roommate. My last roommate was psychotic.”

“It won’t get weird, Lovett.” Tommy reaches out to ruffle his hair, laughing when Lovett swats his hand away. “I promise.”

\-----

“What if I hate it?” Lovett asks, digging his hand into the bag and crunching down on another chip. It’s a Saturday night and they’re drinking on the couch again. Sometimes Tommy thinks he should try to get a better social life, but who has the time?

“Maybe I’ll hate it. You know, I don’t even really feel the need. I could go my whole life with my ass unfucked. People do it all the time.”

Tommy shrug-nods in acknowledgement and takes a sip of his beer. He’s one of those people, at least so far.

“It’s not like it’s necessary. For life. It’s not like it’s to reproduce. And I’m all for non-reproductive sex, obviously, but it’s not like I’ll die if I don’t-“

“But what if it feels really good?” Tommy asks, flopping his head back against the couch. “You might love it. You might be like, what the fuck, I’ve been missing out.”  

“Is it worth it though?”

“It’s just sex. If you don’t like it you can stop. And do something else.”

Lovett eats another chip, thoughtfully.

“Have you, like, talked to dudes who like it?”

Lovett gives him a withering look. “I don’t generally ask people if they like anal sex, Tommy. Jesus, what do you think gay guys talk about? Brad Pitt and the prostate? While we sip mimosas at brunch with our pinky fingers out?”

“I was just wondering-“

“Have you discussed your favorite sex position with Favs? Is that what you do during halftime or whatever? Oh dude, I really like reverse cowgirl, how about you?”

Tommy snorts. “Okay, fair point.”

“Like, come on, Tommy. I’m gay but I’m not a deviant.”

“There’s nothing wrong with talking about sex,” Tommy reminds him.

“Only people who have sex all the time say that.”

“Okay, I don’t have sex _all the time_.”

“You literally brought someone home a week ago.”

“And that means I do it all the time?”

“Pretty frequently!” Lovett’s pink in the face.

“What if I try it first?” Tommy says, laughing a little at the idea. He needs another beer. Or maybe he needed like two fewer beers. He’s not sure.

Lovett snorts. “Try what? Getting fucked?”

Tommy shrugs. “You haven’t done that yet either, right? It’d be another first. So like, I’d try it. Whatever.”

“Whatever? You’re talking about a dick up your ass, Tommy. That’s not a whatever thing. That’s a real commitment.”

Tommy snorts. “Your dick isn’t much of a commitment.”

Lovett elbows him hard. “Take that back.”

“Ow, Jesus, Lovett. I was kidding.” Lovett’s dick is nice. Proportional. Fits in Tommy’s hand just right. It’s pink and thick, framed by dark coarse curls like the ones on his head when he goes too long between haircuts. They tickled Tommy’s hand when he jerked him off.

He’s getting a little turned-on, thinking about Lovett’s dick. That’s new. He coughs, shifts position on the couch, closer.

“I’m just trying to help,” he says. “Maybe you’re a top. Maybe you don’t need to get fucked at all.”

Lovett looks at him, narrow-eyed. “If you’re making fun of my height, you can just-“

“Jesus, dude, you’re so fucking paranoid. I’m not making fun of you.” Tommy laughs, stretching his feet out, toes pressing against Lovett’s thigh. Lovett looks down at them, and then back up at Tommy, squinting.

“I mean it,” Tommy says. He likes the way Lovett swallows hard when Tommy slides his foot up Lovett’s scrawny leg, against the grain of dark hair. He likes how Lovett looks at him, eyes bright and suspicious, like he wants it and he’s scared Tommy’s gonna snatch it away.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’d try it,” Tommy says. “With you.”

Lovett has a hard-on, obvious in his boxers. Tommy looks at it for a minute, then puts the ball of his foot on it, and Lovett flushes and squirms away, pulling the blanket up over himself.

“Shut up,” he says sourly. “Stop fucking with me, Vietor.”

Tommy likes fucking with him, a little bit. But this, he actually means. He’d let Lovett try it. What the hell does he have to lose?

“I’m not fucking with you,” he says.

“Sure.”

Tommy pushes himself up, crawls over to him. Lovett blinks up at him, lets out a shaky breath when Tommy slings a leg over his lap. He reaches down with one hand. Lovett’s still hard.  

“Let’s just do it,” he says, still feeling that weird urge to laugh, a rise in his throat. “Let’s fucking try it.”

Lovett swallows.

“Not tonight,” he says, like Tommy’s insane. “Not- just like that. You can’t just…”

“Why not?” Tommy’s not sure he’ll feel this brave another night. This restless, at least. Lovett tips his head back against the couch and looks at him.

“You’re drunk,” he says again. His gaze falls to Tommy’s mouth.

“I had like three beers. So did you. We’re fine.”

Lovett screws up his face like he’s trying to think of more excuses. Tommy kisses him before he can.

Kissing Lovett is so different than the girls he’s been hooking up with. So different from Katie. Lovett’s stubble rasps against Tommy’s jaw and he’s combative and rough, but not in the practiced way of the Senate intern who went home with him last month and gave him a throbbing hickey on his neck that everyone laughed at the next day. Lovett’s not practiced at all. He just kisses like he talks- quick, stubborn, not giving an inch. He doesn’t relent and open up for him until Tommy licks hard inside his mouth, sucks his tongue, and then he scrabbles at Tommy’s back with his fingers and breaks away.

“Shit, let me breathe,” he gasps. “You’re like a dementor. Trying to suck my soul out through my  mouth.”

“You’re such a nerd,” Tommy says fondly. Lovett looks like he’s about to say something snarky so Tommy kisses him again.

When he pulls away the next time, a while later, Lovett mumbles a protest. His mouth’s pink and swollen, thighs sagging open, and he blinks up at Tommy, looking dazed and a little grateful. That’s a nice look. Tommy hasn’t seen that look on him before.

Tommy shifts on his lap, realizes with a hot jolt that he actually- wants it. He actually wants Lovett to fuck him. He wants Lovett to blow his load inside him for the first time. He has no clue why but he fucking wants it.

If Katie could see me now, he thinks, grimly amused. Lovett curls his hand around Tommy’s hip, drags his fingers tentatively across his abs.

“Having second thoughts?” he asks, eyes fixed on his hand on Tommy’s body. “Because your offer to get fucked in the ass was actually just a thinly-veiled cry for help?”

“No,” Tommy says stubbornly. He presses a kiss against Lovett’s soft mouth. “No. I want to.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Lovett mumbles against his lips. “I can find someone else. I can just- I can-”

“Can you?”

“Shut up.” Lovett pulls back, glares up at him. “I mean it. Don’t do this because you feel bad for me.”

Tommy snorts. “You think I feel bad for you?”

Lovett keeps glaring, and Tommy laughs again. He can’t help it. Lovett wasn’t brutally dumped by his fiancée. Lovett isn’t a complete fuck-up at his job. Lovett sleeps through the night. Lovett’s dad isn’t-

He stops himself. He’s not going down that road tonight.

“I don’t feel bad for you,” he says, voice coming out clenched. “Trust me.”

It sounds mean. Lovett’s eyes darken. He shifts his hips under Tommy’s weight.  

“Fine,” he says. “I don’t feel bad for you either.”

Tommy knows he’s lying. He doesn’t say anything. He just nods his head back at the hallway, says “My room or yours?”

\-----

Lovett picks Tommy’s room, probably because he doesn’t want to have to wash his sheets. Tommy’s fine with it. Lovett’s bed has an alarming number of empty crushed Diet Coke cans hidden under the duvet. Tommy almost cut his thigh open once, one night back in January when he fell asleep in Lovett’s bed as Lovett read him a draft of the SOTU.

Tommy’s room is clean in comparison, and Tommy shuts and locks the door, reaches over to flick his lamp on and turns the overhead off. Lovett eyes him warily as they tug down their boxers.

“What?” Tommy asks, laughing a little. Lovett has a wicked bad farmer’s tan on his thighs from the stupid gym shorts he wears all the time.

“Nothing,” Lovett says, waiting til Tommy starts to pull off his t-shirt to whip off his own. “Just considering what we’re about to do here.”

“Maybe that’s your problem,” Tommy suggests, taking a step towards him. It’s hot, how Lovett’s eyes flicker down Tommy’s body and his throat bobs, nervous. “Overthinking everything.”

“Maybe you have the opposite problem,” Lovett says, a halfhearted barb. He shivers when Tommy puts hands on his hips, walks him back to the bed.

“Shit,” he says faintly. Tommy ducks to kiss his neck. “You’re like a- a fucking- a- a-“

He can’t think of anything scathing enough, apparently.

“Mm,” Tommy murmurs. “Good one.”

“Shut up.” Lovett yanks away from his grasp and for a second Tommy’s scared he’s going to bolt.

He doesn’t, though. He just says- “So how do you, uh, want to do this?”

Tommy shrugs, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

“On all fours?” he says. “I feel like that’ll be the easiest.”

Lovett swallows audibly. “This is like a sex nightmare. I swear to God I’ve had this nightmare before and you turn into, like, an octopus when I’m about to fuck you.”

“So what I’m hearing is you’ve dreamed about fucking me. A moment of real honesty from Jon Lovett.”

“Shut up.” Lovett pushes his stomach with both hands and Tommy staggers back, laughing. He sits on the edge of the bed, like he did the week before, with Lovett standing before him. Lovett doesn’t tell him to jerk off this time. He just stares at Tommy with this - look. Tommy can’t describe it. It’s like Lovett thinks Tommy’s gonna bolt, which is hilarious, because Tommy’s fully along for the ride. Tommy’s the easy one.

“You want me to?” Tommy asks, spreading his legs. He sees Lovett look at his dick. “Get on my hands and knees for you?”

“Tommy, Jesus Christ.” Lovett folds an arm over his chest and huffs.

Clearly he’s not going to be useful, so Tommy just- does it. Turns over and clambers onto the bed, on all fours.  

“Lovett,” he says, face burning. He feels open. “Come the fuck on, let’s do this.”

“Not an expert, admittedly,” Lovett says shakily. “But don’t we need like, sex accoutrements? Condoms, lube-“

Tommy drops his head to laugh. “On my dresser in a CVS bag.”

Lovett goes rummaging, so fast he almost falls off the bed.

\-----

Lovett’s terrified of putting his fingers in until Tommy calls him a fucking coward and then he does it mostly out of spite.

“Okay,” Tommy breathes, after a few minutes of Lovett resentfully working him open on two fingers. “Okay, just- okay, Lovett.”

“What? You want to criticize me again? It doesn't exactly put me in the mood to be insulted, Tommy.”

Tommy snorts. “No, dude, I want you to fuck me.”

Just saying it is a thrill, in a way Tommy didn’t realize it would be. It’s wild. Three hours ago they were eating burgers at BTS and arguing about the budget proposal. Now they’re having sex. Actual sex.

“Okay,” Lovett grumbles, like it’s a chore. He rips open the condom packet. “Fine.”

He’s so full of shit. His dick’s hard and his hands are shaking. Tommy knows he wants this, just as much as Tommy does. More, maybe.

Lovett’s even more tentative with his dick than he was with his fingers.

“Is that- are you-” he asks, when the head of his cock is just pressed up against Tommy’s hole. “Are you okay? Does that hurt?”

“Dude, it’s not even in me.”

Lovett swallows hard and breaches him just a little, holding onto Tommy’s back, making a strangled sound when the head pops past the rim.

That Tommy can feel. He lets out a shuddering breath, trying to relax, hand clenched hard in the sheets.

“Well?” Lovett demands, shrill, and Tommy chokes a laugh despite himself.

“Don’t scream at me. Jesus.”

“Is it okay? Are you-“

“Yeah, it’s good,” Tommy says, even though it’s not yet. His voice sounds weird to his own ears. Strained. He puts his face down against the bed. “Keep moving.”

Lovett braces himself hard on Tommy’s back, breath fast and loud, fingers digging in. All that feels secondary, like background noise, compared to the burning stretch of Lovett inside him. Tommy’s tense until he remembers he has to fucking breathe or this won’t work, and when he relaxes a fraction Lovett slides deeper.

“God,” Lovett mumbles, sounding dazed. “Fuck. Tommy. You don’t have to do this. You know that, right? Like- like you don’t have to-“  

“Keep moving,” Tommy says, eyes squeezed shut. “Keep- going.”

“You don’t-“

“Jon, please, just move.”  

Lovett draws in another shaky breath and obeys. When he’s all the way in they both groan, and Lovett puts a hand flat on Tommy’s back, holds himself still. Tommy can’t lift his head from the bed.

It doesn’t feel like sex until Lovett starts moving, very slowly.

“Fuck,” he chokes out, as he pushes back in, filling him again. Tommy tries to unclench his jaw.

“More lube,” he says, blindly.

Lovett goes perfectly still. “Does it hurt? Am I hurting you? Fuck.”

“Just- no, just-“ Tommy doesn’t know. “Just more, more lube. Please.”

Lovett fumbles for it with one hand, and the shift in position is enough to make Tommy’s breath catch hard. The next slide in is easier, and the next one feels good.

“Yeah,” Tommy mutters, reaching down to fist his half-hard cock, nerve endings starting to stir. “Yeah, like that.”

Lovett’s gone nonverbal, gasping loudly behind him. He’s heavy on Tommy’s back, not even trying to hold himself up, and after he thrusts in again Tommy lets himself down onto his elbows, ass up, shuddering at the new angle. He puts his face in the sheets again, lets himself feel it.

He’s just starting to rock eagerly back into the rhythm of Lovett’s thrusts when Lovett inhales sharply, hips stuttering, clenching his hand on the skin of Tommy’s back.

“Shit shit- shit,” he gasps, and he slows down til he’s stopped, panting. “Shit.”

Tommy lifts his head a little. “Did you just-“

“Yeah,” Lovett says, voice strained. “Shit. Sorry.”

“Fuck,” Tommy breathes, with a weak laugh. He yelps when Lovett pulls out. “Fuck! Slower. Christ.”

“Sorry,” Lovett says, still breathless. “What- what do you want me to do?”

“Something,” Tommy grits out, moving his hips against the bed. When he comes first he usually offers to eat the girl out. He could do that, turn over and ask Lovett to suck his dick, but- “Use your hand. Your fingers. In me. Come on, fuck.”

“Okay,” Lovett murmurs, sliding his hand nervously over the curve of his ass. Tommy appreciates his journey to explore the intricacies of Tommy’s body or whatever, but he needs to fucking come. He arches his back, reaches under himself for his dick, throbbing in his hand.

“Put your fingers in me,” he gasps, and he’s so turned-on he only feels the faintest twinge of shame. Mostly he just feels good, and he wants to feel even better, he wants to fucking come.

“Tommy-“

“You’re killing me, Lovett, I swear to God. Hurry up-“

“Okay,” Lovett grumbles. “Relax. Don’t yell at me.”

“Don’t come in five seconds then,” Tommy mutters, scooting his knees up and lifting his hips so he can jerk off. God, that’s good, with enough room to get a proper grip, with his cock slick from leaking while Lovett fucked him. Jesus, Lovett _fucked him_. He shuts his eyes.

“Oh fuck you,” Lovett says. Tommy can hear the lube bottle sputter. “That was your fault. And it was not five seconds.”

“How was that- how was that my fault?”

Lovett fumbles a wet finger between Tommy’s cheeks, and Tommy drops his head, body tensing in anticipation.

“You were too fucking tight. That’s your fault.” Lovett slides a finger inside him, thumb pressed above his hole. “Is that- is that good?”

“Yeah,” Tommy mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut. “Yeah.”

Lovett braces himself against Tommy’s back, slips in another finger, wet with lube.

“You’re all open,” he says, voice quiet, observing. Like Tommy’s worth all of his attention. “And like, wet.”

Tommy groans, losing his voice, thinking of Lovett watching him. He bites his lip hard and moves his hand faster.

“Tell me what it feels like,” Lovett says shakily. “Tell me if I’ll like it.”

“Yeah,” Tommy mutters, rocking back against Lovett. His hands are small but his fingers feel huge, moving inside him, rubbing, pressing. It’s pretty obvious he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing but it’s working for Tommy. Tommy doesn’t know either.

“Tell me, Tommy,” Lovett says, curling his fingers. Tommy can feel the ridges of his knuckles. He chokes on his breath, digs his forehead into the sheets.

“It’s good,” he gasps, shivering around Lovett’s fingers. “Feels good. You’ll like it.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No, no,” Tommy manages. “No, it’s good, it’s- fuck.” He’s close again, heat throbbing low in his stomach, almost an ache. He wants to put his dick in something, wants to fuck, but all he can do is keep working his fist over himself, fast and tight. Next time, though. Next time Lovett will let him do that, maybe. Maybe Lovett can fuck him first and then Tommy can return the favor. God, that’s good to think about. Lovett all soft and fucked-out under him, opening for him. Slick. Blissful from coming in Tommy’s ass. Bracing himself and whimpering as Tommy just- just nails him-

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Fuck, fuck, Lovett-“

He sucks in a breath when Lovett twists his hand.

“Tell me- tell me what to do,” he says, unsure. “Are you, um, close?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, too loud and shaky. “Yeah, god, keep- keep moving your fingers like that.”

“Like-“ he does it again, a rough twist, just as Tommy drags his thumb over the wet head of his cock, and Tommy almost comes. He inhales sharply, grips his dick tight at the base, trying to hold off.

“ _Yeah_ ,” he groans. His balls feel full, tight. He starts tugging again. “Harder.”

Lovett curls his fingers inside him, knuckles rubbing against his prostate. He has- more inside him, now. Three, maybe. Tommy’s not sure. Lovett has such small hands. He could probably fit more. He could probably fit his whole-

“There, right- fucking- there-“ Tommy gasps, hand moving faster. “Keep- keep-“

Lovett keeps. Keeps pressing until Tommy gives in and comes, whimpering, spurting hot and messy all over his hand and stroking himself through it. He gasps something wordless when Lovett keeps working his fingers inside him. It feels good for a minute and then it’s too much and he shudders away, clenching.

“Jesus,” he says hoarsely, reaching back. “Okay, dude. St-stop. Stop. Fuck.”

“Did you come?” Lovett asks breathlessly, like he somehow missed it even though Tommy felt like he came forever, like he was embarrassingly loud. “Tommy, did you-“

“Yeah,” Tommy groans. His legs feel like jelly.

“Shit,” Lovett breathes, fingers still inside Tommy. He pulls them out belatedly, slower this time, and Tommy lets himself down from all fours, muscles stiff, pushing himself over onto his back with a thump. He exhales slowly.

“Fuck,” he says, toes uncurling, body unclenching. Lovett’s kneeling by Tommy’s hip, making a face at his wet hand.

“Just gonna-“ he says, and rolls off the bed. Tommy hears the sink running. He shuts his eyes.

He opens them again when Lovett sits at the edge of the bed. He’s in his boxers now, peering at Tommy nervously.  

“You, uh. Are you okay?”

“Don’t ask that like we just survived an explosion or something,” Tommy says, laughing. “Have some confidence.”

Lovett rolls his eyes, reaches for his shirt on the floor. He starts tugging it on.

“Yes, to answer your question,” Tommy says, stroking the small of Lovett’s back with two fingers before it’s covered up by t-shirt. “I’m okay. Better than okay.”

Lovett’s shoulders hunch. He turns to look at him.

“That was good,” Tommy murmurs, still touching Lovett’s back. The truth is it was better than good. It made Tommy’s gnawing brain shut the hell up for a few minutes.

But he doesn’t know how to say that without sounding insane. He’s not gonna sit there and force Lovett to listen to him whine about all his fucking problems just because they’re hooking up.

“Was it good for you?” he says instead, because that’s easier.

Lovett chokes a little laugh. “Uh. Yes. Obviously.”

Tommy grins. He gets that pretty much every time, because he’s not a selfish jackass, but he still likes to hear it.

“You got laid, dude.” He reaches a hand up for a high-five. “Congratulations. You’re a man now.”

“I’ve been a man since I was 13, Tommy.” Lovett snorts and shoves his hand away. “And I don’t think you’re allowed to say congratulations when you’re the person I had sex with. That seems wrong.”  

“Can say whatever the hell I want,” Tommy says, dropping his hand, digging his toes into the bed. He shuts his eyes, yawning.

“Aren’t you going to change the sheets? Or - clean up, or whatever? Do laundry?” Lovett sounds perturbed. “You always do laundry after you hook up with someone.”

Tommy doesn’t move, doesn’t open his eyes. He wants to hold onto this loose, strange feeling as long as he can. “Keeping tabs on me, Lovett?”

“Yeah right.” Lovett lets out a sharp laugh and stands up. “I’m going to bed. Have fun sleeping on gross sheets.”

“Have fun getting tetanus from the edge of a Coke can.” Tommy laughs sleepily.

“Okay, that was one time, and it was before the State of the Union, okay? I didn’t have time to clean. Sorry that I’m devoted to my job.”  

“I think it left a scar.”

Lovett scoffs. Tommy hears footsteps and he thinks Lovett’s gone, but then the bed dips again. Tommy opens his eyes.

“Was it actually okay?” Lovett says, on his knees above him. His face is flushed under his stupid haircut. It’s hard to believe he was inside Tommy. Like Tommy actually- did that. Tomorrow they’ll wake up and go to work and the whole time they’ll both know that this happened.

“It was good,” Tommy says. His voice sounds weird. “You felt good.”

Lovett goes even redder. "Okay."

“Come here,” Tommy adds, reaching for Lovett’s wrist. “Jesus, dude, kiss me or something. I need a little romance, I was just penetrated for the first time.”

“Please never say penetrated again,” Lovett says, but he leans down, opens his mouth against Tommy’s.

Tommy has a hand resting on the back of his head when he says quietly, “You still want me to do that to you?”

Lovett nods, quickly, not looking at him.

“Next time,” Tommy says, scrunching his fingers in Lovett’s hair. “Pick a day. We can leave work early.”

“We’re scheduling our- sex, now?” Lovett asks. “Where’s the spontaneity, Vietor. We’re like an old married couple.”

He looks sheepish. “Sorry.”

“What?"

“Marriage,” Lovett says, contrite. “Sore subject.”  

Tommy laughs again, loose. Oh yeah. That. He almost forgot. He flops his head back against the pillow and Lovett looks down at him. It’s almost romantic for a second, in the dark with Lovett’s face in shadow. Tommy almost asks him to stay in his room, and then Lovett bites his lip and pushes himself upright.

“Good night, Tommy,” he says. “Don’t stay up too late having a gay crisis.”

Tommy snorts. “Thanks, Lovett. Sweet dreams.”

Lovett stands up, closes the door quietly behind him. Tommy rolls away from the wet spot and shuts his eyes.

\-----

A couple weeks later, Tommy buys a pint of whiskey on the way home from work and pours them both shots as soon as he walks in the door.

“So why are we drinking?” Lovett says, after he takes it. “Not that I’m opposed. But this feels a little less like take-the-edge-off drinking and more like, like cry-for-help drinking.”

“Who needs a reason,” Tommy says, letting out a sour laugh. He pours himself another shot of whiskey, knocks it back. It burns so hard it makes his eyes water and he rubs a shaky hand over them.

Lovett frowns at him, half-empty shot glass held up to his mouth. “Me. I need a reason. Because it’s a Tuesday and I have a lot of work to do.”

Tommy reaches out and nudges the bottom of the shot glass until Lovett’s forced to take it. He coughs and says, whiny, “ _Tommy_!”

“Fine,” Tommy says, carefully pouring them both another shot. “Fine. Katie’s leaving the White House.”

Lovett goes very still for a second, and then slowly reaches across for his shot glass. “Okay.”

“And moving to Chicago,” Tommy says, voice cracking a little. He coughs and focuses on the whiskey. “With her boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Lovett says, quietly. “Shit.”

Tommy breathes out a laugh and lifts the glass. “Yeah.”

He knocks it back and Lovett makes a quiet sound.

“Tommy-“

“Take the shot, Lovett.”

“Tommy, can we, like, slow down?”

“Take the fucking shot,” Tommy bites out. His head is starting to swim. He wants to be - gone. He wants to fucking depart. He never gets to get drunk like that anymore, so drunk his eyes won’t focus and he can’t think about anything except putting one foot in front of the other. He misses that.

Lovett looks unhappy but he takes it, pulling a face at the aftertaste.

“Can we talk now? I took the stupid shot.”

“I really don’t feel like talking.”

“Well, too fucking bad.” Lovett pulls the bottle away from him when Tommy starts pouring again. “Oh my God, Tommy, stop. We have work tomorrow. You know, in the White House? Where we work for the President of the United States?”

Not if Tommy drinks enough he passes out and has to get his stomach pumped. At least in the hospital he could get some rest. It’d only be a couple days, laid up eating chicken soup and Jello. It sounds pretty damn good.

“Tommy,” Lovett says, putting the bottle down behind him.

“Just don’t,” Tommy says, forcing a smile. “It’s all good. Let’s just drink. Can we just drink?”

“You’re such a fucking repressed WASP,” Lovett says. “It’s almost impressive. And I thought I’d seen you break down before. This is like in real time.”

That’s a lie. Lovett never saw him break down for real, the way he did when he went home for his dad’s funeral and raided his mom’s medicine cabinet. He threw up on the floor in a bar on Tremont, called Katie 14 times in one night, and ended up stoned out of his mind on the train back to DC, sitting next to Taylor like a zombie while she wept on his shoulder, holding her hand so tight it would’ve hurt if he hadn’t taken an Oxy.

“You haven’t seen shit, man,” Tommy says, and starts laughing. “Give me the fucking booze.”

He makes grabby-hands for the whiskey and Lovett hands it back, grudgingly.

“ _Thank_ you,” Tommy says. “Now please just fucking shut up and get drunk with me.”

\-----

Lovett shuts up and gets drunk. They drink until the bottle’s empty and then they switch to beer. Tommy ends up on the couch, watching Lovett try and fail to play some stupid racing game on his XBox. At least he’s not trying to talk about Tommy’s feelings again.

There’s a knock at the door. 

“Oh shit,” Tommy says, lifting his head. “Oh shit, it’s the cops.”

“You’re an idiot,” Lovett says, tossing the controller aside and pushing himself to his feet.

“Is it the fucking cops? Shit. _Shit_. Hide the- hide the beer.”

“It’s not the _cops_. And you’re thirty years old.” Lovett swings the door open. “Finally. Took you long enough.”

It’s Jon, looking cautious, unzipping his jacket.

“Hey, man,” he says, taking in the scene, eyebrow arching. “How we doing?”

“Oh- what the fuck, Lovett,” Tommy says, kicking his ankle when he staggers by to flop back onto the armchair. “What the fuck. Calling Favs? That’s fucking- stupid. You should go to sleep, man. You should be in bed. We’re just hanging out.”

“It’s like 9:30, Tommy,” Jon says, stooping to clear the empty beer bottles on the ottoman. “I just wanted to see, like, what’s up.”

“Lovett made you come over.”

“Because you’re being an idiot,” Lovett grumbles.

“No, you’re being an idiot.”

“No, _you’re_ being-”

“Okay, you fucking toddlers,” Jon says, laughing. “Chill out.”

He tosses Tommy’s crumpled-up hoodie aside and sits himself on the couch next to him. Tommy looks over, dizzily. Squints.  

“You didn’t have to come over.”

“Good to see you too, Tom,” Jon says gently. He smells like he came straight from the gym and his face is soft. “What happened, man?”

“Nothing,” Tommy says, tipping his head back against the couch. “Nothing happened. I don’t know what Lovett told you, but-”

“Bullshit!” Lovett calls from the armchair. “Bullshit. Katie’s leaving DC.”

Jon raises an eyebrow. “For real?”

Tommy looks at him dead-on. His vision’s a little fuzzy, stomach wobbling when he tries too hard to focus, but he can see Jon staring right back. Steady. It makes Tommy’s eyes hurt.

“Yeah,” he says. “Moving back to Chicago. With her boyfriend. The Secret Service guy.”

“Oh- Tommy.” Jon’s mouth twists unhappily. “Shit.”

“I don’t fucking care,” Tommy lies. “She can do whatever she wants. It’ll be better like this anyway. Right? It’ll be better. Maybe this is what we need. I don’t care.”

“You don’t care, huh?” Jon grabs Tommy’s phone out of his hand. Tommy makes a weak attempt to get it back and sinks back into the sofa, hiccuping queasily.

“What are you doing?”

“Telling Rhodes you’ll be in at noon tomorrow. You’re wasted, Tom.”

“I’m _fine._ ”

“No, he’s not, he threw up,” Lovett reports.

Tommy flips him off. “You did too, you asshole.”

Lovett groans like he had forgotten that they’d taken turns retching in the bathroom a half hour ago. “Favs, I’m not coming in til noon tomorrow either.”

“Whatever.” Jon is watching Tommy again, eyes dark. He holds Tommy’s phone out, pulls back when Tommy reaches for it. “You’re not gonna call her, are you?”

“Fuck you.” Tommy snatches it and tucks it in his pocket. It’s a fair question. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“You’ll regret it,” Jon says, knee pressing warm and solid against Tommy’s. “I promise you, dude.”

“Jon, I need water,” Lovett groans, and Jon pats Tommy’s leg and stands up.

“Water and an Advil for both of you drunks,” he says, yawning into his elbow. “Then bed.”

“Jesus, fine, _dad_ ,” Lovett grumbles, staggering upright from the chair, patting his pockets for his phone. Tommy flinches, tries to shake it off, shutting his eyes. Lovett’s too drunk to notice but when Jon comes back he squeezes Tommy’s shoulder as he hands him the water.

Tommy takes a tiny sip, throat aching. He puts his head back against the couch and Jon leans over him, face upside down. Tommy can still see his frown. He reaches up to poke at it.

“Bed,” Jon says, wrapping a hand around Tommy’s wrist. “C’mon, Tom. Get up.”

“She’s fucking leaving,” Tommy says, without meaning to. He sniffs in hard.

“I know,” Jon says gently. “And that really sucks, but-“

“How do you- how do you know someone so well, and then, just like. You just have to pretend you don’t. Like that was gonna be my whole life. And now it’s just not. It’s just not.”

He stops, shuts his eyes.

“I know,” Jon murmurs again. “I know. How about you go to bed, Tommy. Catch up on some sleep. You’ve been working your ass off.”

Sleep won’t fix anything. Tommy feels so helpless sometimes, like there’s a hole right in the center of his chest, carved out by Katie and his dad and impossible to fill.

Jon stays there, looking at him, like he knows Tommy’s on the verge of tears. Tommy shuts his eyes again, brimming hot.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Jon says quietly. “You’re just having a bad night. It’s okay.”

Tommy breathes a laugh. “I don’t know, man. Everyone always says that and- I don’t know.”

“I do. C’mon. Get up.” Jon ruffles his hair and turns away.

\-----

Tommy brushes his teeth, splashes water on his face, pops an Advil like Jon told him to, but then he takes a detour on the way back to his room. Lovett’s in bed but he sits up straight when Tommy slowly opens the door.

“Tommy?”

Tommy clutches the doorjamb, feeling unsteady.

“Can I sleep in here?” he mumbles.

Lovett’s face softens.

“Yeah,” he says. “Sure. Let me just-”

He shoves a book, a couple soda cans, and a pile of laundry onto the floor and lifts the covers for him. Tommy gets in gratefully. It’s warm and it smells like him and Tommy takes a minute to just lay there and breathe deep, head still spinning.

“Don’t puke,” Lovett warns.

“I think I’m all puked out.”

“Tomorrow’s gonna suck.”

“Every day sucks,” Tommy says, shutting his eyes, sniffing in hard. He thinks that all the time, every morning he wakes up and it doesn’t get easier. But he never lets himself say it out loud.

Lovett goes quiet.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “About Katie leaving. And- and about-”

Tommy’s tense waiting for him to say it, but Lovett doesn’t finish. After a second he rolls over away from him, feigning sleep, and Tommy lies there staring at his back for a second before he does the same.

\-----

Tommy’s not drunk the next night but he still crawls into Lovett’s bed after dark. Twice might be a fluke but then he does it again, and again, until he’s slept there six nights in a row.

On Tuesday Lovett’s already sleeping when Tommy gets home. He gets undressed as quietly as possible, down to his boxers and undershirt, and lifts the covers. When he’s settled Lovett stirs and mumbles, “Tommy?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry, go back to sleep.”

Lovett rolls to face him. “I’m just napping,” he says with a yawn. “I gotta finish a draft before tomorrow, I should probably get up.”

It’s past eleven. He’s such an idiot. Tommy digs his head into the pillow and yawns. “Good luck, man.”

“It’s this energy speech for his trip to Arizona next week, and I am fucking losing my _mind_ trying to make it understandable. Jon’s given me like three crappy assignments in a row.”

Tommy nods sympathetically, barely listening. He can’t keep his eyes open.

“And he says I’m the best at energy stuff, which I _am_ , but like throw me a fucking hope and changey inspirational speech once in a while. Don’t always make me translate fucking PhD-level research papers for the common man.”

“Mmhm,” Tommy hums. It’s funny, he doesn’t mind Lovett rambling in his face while he’s trying to sleep. It’s almost like a lullaby.

“And then he just-” Lovett stops, and taps Tommy’s forehead with one finger. “Tommy? Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah,” Tommy mumbles. “Totally.”

“You are not.”

Tommy just hums and Lovett goes quiet. After a minute Tommy feels a warm hand against his cheek.

“G’night,” he manages to say in response.

“Good night, Tommy,” Lovett whispers back. The hand goes away, and he feels Lovett get out of bed.

\-----

He goes home for Easter weekend. He shouldn’t take the time off, but his mom buys him a train ticket and he can’t say no. He eats a lot of food and drinks too much wine and barely leaves the house all weekend, doesn’t see any of his high school friends, because he hasn’t seen most of them since the funeral and he doesn’t want to think about that.

He thinks about it anyway, of course. Every fucking day he thinks of it. He doesn’t know how to turn that part of his brain off.

Taylor has him over for lunch before his train back to DC, and she waits a respectable 30 minutes before she starts quizzing him about his love life. It’s pretty restrained for her.

“So,” she says, when they’re almost done. “So, are you seeing anyone?”

Tommy laughs around the last mouthful of his sandwich. “No. Way too fucking busy.”

“Fair enough,” she says, watching him chew with her chin in her palm.

Tommy swallows. “Can you not look at me like that?”

“Like how?”

“Like you’re worried about me because I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“I’m not!”

“It’s not like I’m just sitting at home alone, Taylor. I’m seeing people. Actually I’m-” he laughs. “I’ve kind of been hooking up with my roommate. Sometimes. Just casual.”  

“Are you serious? Your roommate? Tommy.”

“Don’t freak out.”

“You so can’t afford to break another lease.”

“It’s nothing serious, Taylor, calm down.”

“Wait,” she says. “Isn’t your roommate a- guy? Jon something?”

Tommy catches her eye guiltily, and her eyebrows raise.

“A guy?” she says, softer. “You’re- um. You’re dating a guy? Way to bury the lede, Tom. That’s pretty big news.”

“We’re not dating,” Tommy scoffs, looking down. He pulls out his phone. “Just hanging out. Or- I don’t know. We’ve just hooked up a couple times.”

“Okay,” she says, hesitantly. “Okay. You hook up with guys now. Cool. Good to know. Thanks for telling me, I guess.”

“Not _guys_. Just him.” That sounds weirdly serious. He squints at his phone. “Don’t tell mom, okay? It’s not a big deal. We’re just messing around.”

“Is this like a, dad-died-so-you’re-acting-out thing, or like an actually-gay thing?”

“I’m not _gay._  C’mon, Taylor, I was with Katie for four years.”

“Okay.” He can feel her watching him. “Okay. But it’d be okay if you were. You know that, right? That we’d be cool with it? Mom would be totally fine with it?”

“Yes, Taylor. I know. I’m still not gay. Trust me.” He rolls his eyes when she swipes his phone from his hands and slides it down the table away from him.

“Stop looking at that stupid thing,” she says. “Talk to me. I barely get to see you.”

“Taylor-”

“Come on.” She shoves his arm away when he reaches for his phone. “How are you? I mean, how are you feeling? With everything?”

“I’m fine, Taylor.”

“Mom said some of her pills were missing, last time we were in town.”

Tommy looks at her incredulously. “So, what, you think I’m stealing Mom’s meds now? Jesus. You know I have a job, right? Where I get randomly drug-tested?”

“It’s not like it’d be the first time.”

“Mom just says that to be dramatic. You actually think she counts her pills?” Tommy looks at her dead-on, her doubtful raised eyebrows. “I haven’t since- since that time right after, okay? I promise.”

“So you’re just fine. You’re just one hundred percent fine. Everything’s just great.”

“I’m not-” Tommy groans. “Fine, honestly, I’m pretty stressed with work. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

She cocks her head. “Why, what’s going on? I thought you said it was going great.”

“It is. It is. It’s just hard. Just nonstop. I mean, I’m working 70, 80 hours a week. And- sometimes I feel like I’m just. Flailing.” Tommy breathes an uncomfortable laugh. “You know?”

“Flailing?”

“Yeah.” Tommy’s throat goes hot and he swallows hard. “I don’t know. Like if I stop moving for a second it’s all gonna fall apart.”

She’s quiet for a second and he goes hot. He wishes he hadn’t said that.

“I’ve been, um. Talking to someone,” she says. “A therapist, I mean. I’ve been going to therapy.”

Tommy looks up. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “It’s- it’s been good. I don’t know. We just talk about like, you know. Life. And dad. And other stuff.”  

She bites her bottom lip. “It helps. Kind of.”

“Good for you, Tay. That’s really good.”

“Have you thought- I don’t know. Have you thought about doing that? Instead of like, taking it out on your poor roommate?”

Tommy stiffens. “I’m not taking anything out on him.”

She gives him a knowing look. “Okay, Tommy.”

“You know, we don’t all have time to go talk to some doctor about our problems every week. Sorry.”

Her eyes narrow.

“I mean, I’m just saying,” Tommy says, weakly. “I’m really fucking busy.”

“Whatever,” she says, standing up. She won’t look at him. “Do what you want. When’s your train?”

“Like in an hour.”

“Okay,” she says flatly, starting to clear the table. Great, now she’s mad at him. She got mad at him after the funeral, too, when she had to come pick him up from that bar on Tremont after he drunk-dialed Katie and said all that stupid shit and Katie called Jon and Jon called Taylor. He threw up in their mom’s car on the way home, and she yelled at him until he started sobbing and then she pulled over and started crying too.  

Tommy hasn’t let himself think about that night in a while and he doesn’t fucking want to start now. He blinks, eyes wet, and hits his fist against his thigh a few times until he can draw in a full breath.

Taylor turns off the sink. “You want some more coffee?”

“No,” Tommy manages to say. Now it’s his turn to avoid her eyes. “I’m good. Thanks.”

\---

On the train back he does some work and then has a beer and texts Lovett.

_This week. The big event. You up for it?_

He hits send and looks out the window. Everything’s dripping and starting to turn green and it makes Tommy feel strange, like something’s caught in his chest, pressing at his throat to get out. He jumps when his phone buzzes in his lap.

_I’m free Thursday night. If you’re asking about having sex and not about a party or something._

He’s so fucking weird. Tommy huffs a laugh and types back, _What if I meant both? Sex party_

Lovett’s response is quick. _I wouldn’t put it past you pervert_

Tommy laughs again, puts his head against the cool window and shuts his eyes.

\-----

He gets back after dark and takes a cab to their apartment. Lovett’s door is closed but there’s a light on in his room, so Tommy knocks softly and twists the doorknob.

Lovett sits up, laptop balanced on his knees, eyes bloodshot like he’s been staring at the screen for hours. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Tommy says, trying not to grin. He shuts the door behind him.

“How was Boston?”

“Good. Fine.” Tommy unzips his jeans. “Long-ass train ride though.”

“You should’ve flown.”

“My mom bought me the train ticket.” Tommy peels off his socks and tosses them in Lovett’s hamper. Lovett makes a face like he’s going to protest but all he says is, “Are you sleeping in here?”

“Do you need to do work?”

Lovett shakes his head, snapping his laptop shut. “No, I’m done. I mean, not done, but I- I can be done. For tonight. I was gonna be done anyway.”

“Cool.” Tommy knees onto the bed and Lovett swallows hard and moves aside.

They settle in side by side in the dark, not touching. Tommy takes a minute to get comfortable and then says, “So. Thursday, right? You still up for it?”

“Yes,” Lovett says, after a long second.

“How late do you have to work?”

“Not late. I have something due at four that day so I can probably leave right afterwards.” Lovett looks over at him. “What about you?”

“I’ll try to get out by six. No promises though.”

Lovett snorts. “Why is this so formal? I feel weird.”

“Should I send you a written invitation? On a piece of parchment?”

“Yeah, if you could. That’d be great.” Lovett laughs, and Tommy rolls over in the darkness and reaches for his mouth. Only when they’re kissing does he realize he’s been thinking about it all weekend. Lovett tastes like he’s brushed his teeth in the last few hours, which is a nice surprise, and he sighs against Tommy’s mouth when Tommy grips his waist under the covers.

After a minute Lovett breaks off, breathing hard.

“Is there anything I need to like- do?” he asks. “Before we, um, do it?”

Tommy snorts against his cheek. “Yeah, could you, uh, could you wax your asshole? And buy some lingerie? You’d look great in pink.”

“Screw you.” Lovett shoves him and Tommy rolls onto his back, laughing. “I’m trying to be serious.”

“No, there’s nothing you need to do, Lovett. Maybe don’t eat like a giant burrito right before we do it though. Just as a courtesy.”

“Gross,” Lovett mutters. “Do you still have, um, lube? And condoms?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re, you’re clean, right? Like, you don’t have any weird bumps on your dick?”

“You’ve seen my dick, dude.”

“Okay, but it’s possible I would’ve missed it in the heat of the moment. I wasn’t examining it closely.”

“I don’t have herpes, Lovett. Or anything else. I’m clean. I promise.”

“Okay. Good.” Lovett chews his lip. “Me neither. Me too, I mean. I’m also clean.”

“Yeah, I guessed that. From the whole virgin thing.”

“Hey. I could’ve caught something from getting a blowjob. It’s not like penetrative sex is the only way to get a STD. I’ve exchanged bodily fluids with people on _several_ occasions.”

“Oh my god,” Tommy laughs, putting a hand over Lovett’s mouth. “Are you seriously arguing that you might have an STD? Is that the hill you’re dying on right now?”

Lovett tries to bite his palm and Tommy lets go with a yelp, shaking his hand. Lovett laughs, triumphant, and rolls over to stare up at the ceiling.

“Tommy,” he says.

“Yeah?”

Lovett swallows audibly.

“If I’m not into it you’ll stop, right? Because I might not even like it. And if I don’t, I don’t want you to try and - and talk me into it.”

Tommy huffs a laugh. “You make me sound like such a douchebag.”

“If the shoe fits-”

“Shut up, dick.” Tommy finds his mouth in the darkness, kisses him while he’s still laughing. Lovett wriggles closer.

Tommy runs his hand down Lovett’s side, slides his knuckles over Lovett’s warm belly.

“You don’t think you’re gonna like it?”

“I didn’t say that,” Lovett says, breathless against Tommy’s lips. “I just- it’s just if I _don’t_ -“

Tommy grips Lovett’s ass, under his boxers. Lovett shudders forward against him.

“I think you might like it,” Tommy murmurs.

“You’re cocky,” Lovett says shakily.

Tommy pulls him closer with a hand on his ass. “I think you’re gonna be _begging_ me for it,” he says, laughing against the warm shell of Lovett’s ear.

“Never,” Lovett says valiantly, but his voice breaks, and his mouth opens when Tommy kisses it.

\---

Lovett doesn’t actually _beg_ on Thursday night, but he gets pretty close as soon as Tommy puts his fingers inside him.

“Tommy-” he says, pushing himself up on the bed.  _Tommy_ -“

“It’s okay,” Tommy says, stroking his free hand over Lovett’s shivering stomach. “Breathe.”

Lovett’s breathing so fast it sounds panicky.

“ _Dude_ ,” Tommy says, taking his fingers out and holding his hands up. Lovett shudders at that too. “Relax.”

“Trying,” Lovett says shortly, staring up at the ceiling. “Sorry.”

“Just- just breathe deep. Keep breathing.”

When he slides his thumb against Lovett’s hole Lovett chokes again.

“Hey,” Tommy murmurs, pressing Lovett’s thigh gently against the bed and slipping his index finger in, thumb against his taint. “There you go.”

“Tommy,” Lovett says, strained. He has his eyes squeezed shut.

“Gonna put another one in, okay? Does it feel good?”

“I don’t know,” Lovett gasps. “I don’t- I-“

“Shh.” Tommy kisses his knee and watches where his fingers are entering him. Lovett’s so tight, so hot inside. It’s so different from the easy slick of a girl.

“ _Tommy_.” Lovett sounds scared. “If I say stop will you stop?”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“I don’t-” Lovett lets out a wobbling breath. “I don’t know.”

Tommy takes his fingers out. “We don’t have to do this.”

“No, I-” Lovett swallows hard and wriggles on the bed. “I want to. Just do it, I won’t- I’ll shut up. Sorry.”

“Please don’t shut up. I don’t know what I would do with myself if you stopped talking for once.”

Lovett doesn’t have a comeback, which is concerning. Tommy stoops to kiss his sweaty neck but he stays stiff as a board, not opening up to it.

“Jesus.” Tommy laughs, lifting his head. “Can you at least pretend like you’re enjoying this?”

“I am,” Lovett says rigidly, looking at the ceiling. “Enjoying it. I mean. Not pretending.”

“Jon.” Tommy runs his hands up Lovett’s belly to his nipples, and then down his skinny arms. Lovett shivers under him. “Just- just try and relax. Okay?”

“Sorry,” Lovett mutters. He shuts his eyes. “It’s just weird. Okay? It’s weird.”

“What’s weird?”

Lovett makes a frustrated sound. After a second he says, “I don’t know.”

Tommy reaches down to touch his hair, thumbing gently over his forehead until Lovett opens his eyes and looks up at him.

“If you want to wait-”

“No,” Lovett says quickly. “I want to do it now.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” Lovett sniffs in hard and rearranges himself on the bed, hands curled into fists. “Okay. C’mon.”

“Lovett-”

“Come the fuck _on_ ,” Lovett says, sharp. “Let’s just- do this. Okay? It’s not a big deal. People do it every day.”

He sounds like he’s talking to himself more than Tommy, but Tommy doesn’t call him out on it.

“Okay, fine,” Tommy says. For some reason his throat is tight. He didn’t expect Lovett to freak out this hard. “It’s gonna feel good, I promise. Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

Lovett puts a hand over his face, wincing. “God, don’t say that. You sound like a bad porn actor.”

Tommy sighs and pulls his fingers off, one by one. Lovett’s red under his hand and he blinks up at Tommy.

“Just like, let yourself feel good,” Tommy says. “Forget that it’s me. Pretend it’s like Brad Pitt. Or whatever kind of nerd guy you’re into. Pretend it’s Albert Einstein.”

Lovett snorts and takes the bait just like Tommy knew he would. “You know Albert Einstein died like 50 years ago, right? And have you ever seen a picture of him?”

“Bill Nye the Science guy then. Whatever.”

“You’re so stupid.”

“There we go,” Tommy says agreeably, pressing Lovett’s thighs open. “Tell me more about how stupid I am, that always gets you in a good mood.”

“God, you’re so-” Lovett groans. “Stop being so nice.”

“What, do you want me to be an asshole? Is that what you’re into?”

“I want to not _know_ you,” Lovett says, loudly. He huffs a breath.

“What?”  

Lovett puts his hand over his eyes. “I just- I want to not know you so if something goes wrong I never have to see you again.”

Tommy’s silent for a second, until Lovett groans and says, “God, never mind. Never mind. Just do it.”

“What’s gonna go wrong?”

“Tommy, c’mon.” Lovett’s red now and won’t meet his eyes.

“We’ve had sex before. Remember? And it went fine. Better than fine. We survived. I actually had a pretty good time.”

Lovett rolls his eyes.

“You also had a pretty good time, if I remember. An extremely, uh, _premature_ good time, but-”

“That’s not helping, Tommy.”

“So what’s gonna go wrong?”

Lovett stares up at him balefully. Sometimes Tommy thinks he’s just angry Tommy can’t read his mind.

“It’s no big deal,” Tommy says, when Lovett stays quiet. “It’s just sex. Isn’t that what you’re always saying, that we should stop making such a big deal out of it-”   
  
“Yes, but-”

“But what?” Tommy grins when Lovett doesn’t have a response. “C’mon.”

“It’s no big deal,” Lovett says quietly, more to himself again.

“Exactly. Just like we said.” Tommy slides his hand up the inside of Lovett’s thigh. He’s slick with lube and he opens easy when Tommy slips a finger inside. “No big deal, right?”

Lovett’s squirming on his hand, brow furrowed like he’s concentrating hard.

“Lovett.” Tommy moves his finger in a slow circle and Lovett clutches the sheets.

“No big deal,” he repeats, strained. “God, _please_ , Tommy. Please.”

“What’d I say?” Tommy says, laughing. “Begging for it.”

Lovett just looks at him, desperate. “Please,” he says again, voice cracking. “Tommy. Just- I don’t- I don’t want it to hurt.”

“It’s not gonna hurt,” Tommy promises. He leans down close, presses his fingers in deeper at the same time, and he feels Lovett give a little, groaning against Tommy’s ear. “Gonna feel so good. I promise.”

“Don’t promise,” Lovett says warningly. His eyes squeeze shut when Tommy circles his fingers. “Oh god. Fuck.”

“Touch yourself, it makes it feel better,” Tommy says breathlessly, remembering with a shiver how good it felt once it all came together. “Lovett. Jerk yourself off, c’mon.”

“Wait,” Lovett gasps.

“Shh.” Tommy gets himself slick with lube and presses Lovett’s thighs open. “Just keep touching yourself.”

“Tommy, _Tommy_ -”

“It won’t hurt,” Tommy murmurs as he starts to push in. “I promise. It won’t hurt.”

“It hurts, already, God, it’s- Tommy-” He’s clinging to the sheets already and they’ve barely started. He’s so goddamn tight around Tommy’s dick, pulling him in. When Tommy’s balls-deep he takes a second just to inhale and compose himself. It’s Lovett’s first time, Tommy can’t be the one getting too excited.

“Relax,” he says. “Don’t stop touching yourself.”

Lovett’s already there, eyes closed and tongue lolling at the side of his mouth as his hand works between his legs. For some reason it’s so hot to watch him jerk off Tommy forgets to move for a minute. Finally he collects himself and starts to fuck him for real. Lovett’s hand stalls and he gapes up at the ceiling, mouth wide open.

“Okay?” Tommy manages to say.

“Yes,” Lovett gasps.

“Keep-” Tommy lifts one arm to nudge Lovett’s hand back onto himself. Lovett takes the hint. “Yeah." 

He watches for a minute and then rolls his hips again, groaning. "Fuck yes. Just keep doing that." 

Lovett does. He keeps his legs open and strokes himself until he's squeezing tight around Tommy's cock, chest heaving, totally lost in it. Finally he goes taut and grabs Tommy's arm. 

“Oh god- _oh_ God, oh god, I’m gonna-” Lovett chokes on his breath, digging his fingers in.

“Yeah, _fuck_ , yeah, that’s it,” Tommy gasps, feeling Lovett shake apart under him. His face is clenched in pleasure, eyes shut tight. It feels like seeing a secret, like something forbidden. Tommy’s never actually watched him come before.

He stares greedily until his own orgasm hits and he has to bury his face in Lovett’s neck, moaning, hips working inside him. It feels so good he starts laughing, mouth pressed up under Lovett’s ear, smelling him, feeling his body. Fucking Christ. He hasn’t come like that in a while.

Lovett’s still quivering under him and he lets out a whimper when Tommy lifts himself up on his hands and carefully pulls out.

“You okay?”

Lovett mumbles a little affirmative noise.

“Good,” Tommy murmurs, leaning down to kiss Lovett’s soft neck, nuzzling against his jaw. Lovett throws one arm out and lets out a happy sigh. It’s blowing Tommy’s mind a little bit, the way he’s spread out on the bed, fucked-out and defenseless. It just- it makes Tommy want to hold his wrists down against the sheets and just keep him there, just like that. So the next time he tries to close up and get mean Tommy can say, _Look. Look how you were with me_.

Finally Lovett groans and shoves Tommy’s hip. “I can’t breathe.”

Tommy rolls off him, flops on his back. He reaches down to pull the condom off and drops it into the trash can.

Lovett’s panting. He quiets after a while, and Tommy looks over at him without lifting his head.

“Good?”

“Shh, I’m basking in the afterglow,” Lovett mutters, eyes closed. “As is my right.”

Tommy grins. He’s pretty sure in Lovett-speak that means it was good. He gives him another couple minutes to bask and then rolls over and taps his shoulder.

Lovett grunts, not opening his eyes.

“Hello. Lovett. You alive?” Tommy taps his nose and then his forehead. “Hey. Lovett.”

“I’m alive,” Lovett mumbles. He blinks his eyes open and looks over at Tommy. “Honestly, I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. Except for like, an apple. I might actually pass out right now.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want to-“ Lovett groans. “I don’t know.”

“Aww, were you nervous for your deflowering?”

Lovett scoffs. “Shut up, idiot. I was just busy. I didn’t have time for lunch.”

He’s such a liar.

“You need food,” Tommy says, nudging him with his elbow. “You need to replenish your strength, dude. That was a workout. Should we get pizza?”  

“It’s like late. Isn’t it? God, I don’t even know what time it is. It’s like-“

He rolls over to check his clock, white asscheeks flashing. Tommy laughs a little watching him. “It’s like 11:30.”

“So what?”  

“So, we have work at 7 tomorrow.”

“You sound so responsible. Who are you and what did you do with Jon Lovett? The Jon Lovett _I_ know never turns down pizza, no matter what time it is.”

Lovett’s mouth works around like he doesn’t want to admit Tommy’s right. Finally he says, “Okay. Yes. Let’s get pizza.”

“I’ll order. You want first shower?”

Lovett looks at him suspiciously. “Sure.”

“Go for it.”

Lovett stops with his hand on the bedroom door. “You’re being weirdly nice to me.”

“Why is that weird? I’m nice all the time.”

“You’re being, like, a gentleman.”

Tommy scoffs. “What does the asshole you were dreaming about do afterwards?”

Lovett considers it, an arm crossed over his chest. “He probably gets sober, realizes what he’s done, and gets out of there as fast as possible.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic.”

Lovett glares at him. “I’m not.”

“Okay, fine,” Tommy laughs, lifting his hands. “Take a shower, you stink. Is that better? Is that mean enough?”

Lovett rolls his eyes and slams the door behind him. The shower turns on.

Tommy picks up his Blackberry, blinking red with notifications. He ignores them and calls the place around the block, gets a large pizza, half sausage-mushroom, half pepperoni-green olive, Lovett’s favorite. When he’s done he stands up, stretching, and quietly pushes the bathroom door open.

Lovett’s head peeks around the shower curtain. “Uh, hey.”

“Hi.” Tommy pulls off his boxers and Lovett lets out an awkward laugh.

“What are you doing?”

Tommy shuts the door behind him and says, “Can I join you?”

He hasn’t done that since Katie. Lovett looks terrified.

“There’s not enough room,” he says, clutching the shower curtain. “I don’t think we-”

“C’mon,” Tommy says, body starting to heat up from the steam, air thick. He reaches for the curtain. “The pizza’s gonna be here soon, we have to hurry.”

Lovett takes a step back into the shower, not making eye contact. “Okay. Fine, if you want to so bad.”

They really do have to hurry but that doesn’t stop Tommy from kissing him, as soon as they’re crowded into the tiny shower together. Lovett’s so small, wet and naked and soft, and he groans into Tommy’s mouth when Tommy runs his hands all the way down his body.

“Let me feel,” he murmurs, sliding his hands around to Lovett’s ass. Lovett jerks, inhales sharp when Tommy runs two fingers between his cheeks, finds his hole and rubs gently.

“Shit,” he says, clutching Tommy’s shoulder. “Tommy.”

“Does it hurt?”

He’s expecting some snarky comeback about Tommy’s dick not being that big but instead Lovett shivers against him and says quietly, “Yeah, a little bit.”

“Yeah?” Tommy squeezes his ass.

“Feels like- kind of um, sore, like- _Tommy_.” Lovett grabs his shoulder again as Tommy presses his knuckle against him. God, it’s hot to feel him open a little bit. He’s still slick with lube.

“Sore?” Tommy mumbles.

Lovett just holds onto him, breathing loud in the humid air. Tommy kneads his knuckles against him until Lovett makes a whimper of discomfort, loud enough to hear over the water.

Tommy pulls away. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Lovett breathes, chin tipping up for another kiss. Tommy gives it to him, holds his hips and kisses him slow and deep until they both hear the door buzzer, muffled in the distance.  

“The pizza,” Lovett says, breathless, starting to laugh.

Tommy curses and stumbles out of the shower. “I’ll get it.”

\-----

He answers the door in a towel and sets the pizza down before he goes to dry off and put boxers on. When he comes back out Lovett’s standing at the counter, picking sausage off Tommy’s half of the pizza and licking his fingers.

“Get a plate, you animal,” Tommy says, passing him one.

“Is that pepperoni-green olive?” Lovett asks, pointing at it.

“Yeah.”

“Mm.” Lovett grabs three pieces and bites the end off one of them with gusto. He chews for a minute and then takes a piece of Tommy’s half, settles on the couch.

“This is the best pizza I’ve ever had in my life,” he says happily, muffled as he finishes his fourth piece. “Post-sex pizza is _amazing_.”

Tommy looks over at him and cracks up. Lovett has red sauce all over his chin.

“What?” Lovett says suspiciously.

Tommy tosses him a couple napkins. “You’re a mess, dude.”

Lovett rubs his chin, glaring at him above the napkin. “Sorry for thinking I could eat pizza without judgment in my own home.”

“Nah, you can’t. Clean yourself up.”

“So how much do I owe you?” Lovett says, picking up a crust and gnawing on it. “This is from Pepito’s, right?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tommy says, throwing a greasy napkin onto the coffee table and pushing himself to his feet. “I got it.”

“I have cash.”

“I got it, Lovett. You can buy me a drink or something.”

Lovett smiles to himself, private and pleased. Tommy catches it out of the corner of his eye. “Wow, thanks, Tommy. I feel like a prostitute.”

“First hooker to ever be paid in pizza.”

Lovett snorts, setting his plate down and hugging his knees to his chest. “I guess you could call me a trailblazer. A trendsetter. Breaking the glass ceiling, if you will.”

“That highest, hardest glass ceiling-”

“Oh shut up.” Lovett laughs, tongue between his teeth. “Too soon.”

Tommy pauses at the doorway to watch him.

“So, how was it?” he asks. “Not so scary, right?”

“I wasn’t scared.”

Tommy scoffs. He so was.  

“It was fine,” Lovett says primly.

“Fine? _Fine_? Fuck you, I’m taking my pizza back.”

Lovett laughs, putting his chin on his knees. He looks up at Tommy for a long minute, eyes searching his face. It makes Tommy realize how often Lovett doesn’t look at him like that.

“It was good,” he says, eyes dropping to Tommy’s bare chest, and then away. He swallows hard. “It was fun. Thank you. For- for-” he waves a hand and doesn’t finish.  

“For the pizza?” Tommy says, helpfully. He grins when Lovett rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, Tommy. For the pizza.”

“Your first time eating pizza, wow. That’s a pretty big deal.”

Lovett’s mouth tugs up in a little smile. “What a momentous occasion.”

It’s quiet for a second and then Tommy coughs. “Well, I’m wiped. I’m gonna go to sleep, will you clean up?”

“Yeah,” Lovett says absently, still hugging his knees tight.

“For real, though, Lovett. Wash your fucking plate.”

“I _will_ , shut up.”

Lovett tries and fails to throw a piece of sausage at him. Tommy’s still laughing as he strips the dirty sheets off his bed and tosses them into the corner.

He flops down on his bare mattress and looks up at the ceiling, letting out a long, shuddery breath. The pizza’s starting to settle like a rock in his stomach and he can’t stop thinking about Lovett’s face back there on the couch, looking at Tommy so intently- scared, almost. But they just did the thing Lovett was so scared about, the thing he'd been waiting for. It's over. So what's he scared of? 


	2. Chapter 2

He and Jon go out after work that weekend and manage to score a table _and_ a basket of fries. They’re drinking to their good fortune when Jon looks across the bar and tilts his head.

“Isn’t that Katie’s friend?”

Tommy twists around to look. It is Katie’s friend. It’s her best friend from college who Tommy’s known for years. He’s met her parents. He looks back down into his drink.

“Yeah,” he says. “Erin.”

“ _Erin_ , yeah. Weird. Does she live in DC now?”

“I think she moved last year,” Tommy says. He drains his drink and stands up. “I’m gonna go say hi.”

“You sure?” Jon moves to grab his arm but Tommy shakes him off. “Tom-”

“I’ll be right back.”

Erin sees him coming, face falling for a second before she puts on a wide fake smile.

“Tommy, hi!”

“Hey, Erin,” Tommy says, leaning in to give her a hug. “Good to see you, how’ve you been?”

“Oh, good. Great. I read this place was popular with the West Wing crew, I guess I was right.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty close to work.” Tommy nods a few times. “You in DC now?”

“I moved in June. Last summer.”

“You still at GSG?”

“Yeah. Yes. Six years now.”  She looks away from him like she’s planning her escape. “How’s work? Did I hear you got promoted?”

Who told her that? “Uhh, yeah. I’m with the NSC now.”

“Good for you,” she says, nodding. “I think my friends just got a table, so-”

“How’s Katie?” Tommy says over her, as casual as he can. “How’s, uh, how’s Chicago? How was the move?”

Erin gives him a look and says, “C’mon, Tommy.”

“What? What?”

She lets out a long breath. “She’s good. She’s fine.”

“Well, good.” Tommy stands there for a second, pulse racing. He should shut up and walk away but instead he says, “Why’d you say it like that? Why’d you say _c’mon Tommy_. Like- I can’t ask how she’s doing?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, what’d you mean then?”

She sighs. “Come on.”

“ _What_?”

“She told me about all the- phone calls, Tommy. And the weird voicemails last year. You really scared her.”

Tommy’s stomach goes cold.

“I know you’re going through some stuff, and I feel for you, but honestly that was really manipulative-”

“Did she also tell you that that was right after my dad died?” Tommy says loudly over her. “And that I was drunk and I fucking apologized the day after and never did it again?”

She puts her hands up. “You don’t have to defend yourself to me, Tommy.”

“Sounds like I do. Because you obviously don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

She darts a glance behind her, like she’s scared of something. Scared of _Tommy_.

“Calm down, okay?”

“I can’t believe she told you about that. I can’t believe she just-”

“Tommy, just relax.”

“Like, that was personal.” Tommy’s voice cracks and he looks away, blinking quickly. Jon’s watching him from across the bar, eyebrows raised. _Okay_? he mouths. Tommy drops his gaze.

“Yeah, well, I’m her best friend.”

“I wasn’t trying to be manipulative. Is that what she said?”

“You know what? I don’t really want to get into this. It’s not my business.”

“It’s just- it’s not- she- she needs to know I wasn’t trying to be manipulative. I would never do that.”

“Okay, Tommy. Just let it go. Okay? Fucking let it go. See, this is why I knew we shouldn’t talk about her. You obviously can’t handle it.” She puts her hands up. “I’m gonna go. Have a good night.”

She turns away, cutting through the crowd. Tommy stares after her for a second until Jon comes up behind him.

“You wanna get out of here?” he says, setting his hand between Tommy’s shoulder blades. “I’m over it, let’s leave. I picked up the tab.”

Tommy nods numbly and lets Jon push him outside.

Jon leans forward to give the cabbie his address and then flops back in his seat, looking over at Tommy.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

“What’d you talk to Erin about?”

Tommy looks out the window as they pull away from the curb. “What do you think?”

“Katie?” Jon says hesitantly.

“No shit, Sherlock.” Tommy drags in a miserable breath. It never feels good to be mean to Jon. “She just- I guess she told Erin about how I left those voicemails.”

“Hm?”

“After my dad’s funeral.” Tommy shuts his eyes. “Katie told her about that.”

Jon goes silent, tensing up. Tommy knows he hates talking about that night.

“Whatever,” Tommy mutters. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You wanna stay at my place tonight?” Jon asks casually. “We could get breakfast tomorrow, there’s that new bagel place like a block away. Supposed to be good.”

Jon wants to keep an eye on him, Tommy knows. He doesn’t know how to tell Jon that he doesn’t have to worry. That Tommy didn’t mean any of those things he said to Katie that night.

Maybe Tommy can’t tell Jon that because it’s not true. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter. He’s not thinking about that. He’s not.

“No, I’m okay,” he says. “I think I’m just gonna go home.”

“You sure? I can pull out the couch-”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Tommy looks over at him. “I’m okay, Jon.”

“I know!” Jon says, wide-eyed. He’s such a bad liar. “I just wanted an excuse to eat bagels. Can we go next weekend?”

Tommy smiles a little and looks out the window again. “Yeah, sure.”

\-----

Lovett’s curled up in bed asleep, laptop and notebook and phone piled up next to him. Tommy takes his jeans off and quietly clears a spot for himself.

“Mm, hey,” Lovett mumbles when Tommy climbs in, waking up a little. Tommy carefully pulls the duvet up over himself, stretching his legs out. It’s so warm under there, and it smells good like Lovett's shampoo. Lovett hisses when Tommy brushes his leg with one foot.

“Cold,” he mumbles. Tommy leans over to kiss his ear as an apology. He stays there, breathing him in, and then presses his mouth slowly to the crook of Lovett’s neck and closes his eyes.

Lovett squirms and says sleepily, “Stop it.”

Tommy breathes a laugh. “Sorry.”

Lovett rolls himself over to face him. “Were you out with Jon?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Just that place by work. With the pool tables.”

Lovett hums. “Eddie’s? I like that place. They keep jacking up the prices though. I went there last weekend and I swear a Bud Light was like nine dollars. It was ridiculous.”

“Yeah.” Tommy touches his face. “Shh, I’m trying to sleep.”

“Sorry,” Lovett yawns. He must really be tired if he’s apologizing so easy. Tommy slides his fingers through his hair. His breath catches when Lovett quietly tips his forehead against Tommy’s shoulder and sighs.

“Thought you might not wanna do this anymore,” he says, muffled. He lifts his head. “Now that, uh, now that-” 

“Now that I popped your cherry?”

“Ugh.” Lovett squints at him in the dark. “Why are you like this? How do you always say the exact dumbest thing at any given moment?”

“Just a natural gift, I guess.”

“No, I just thought- I thought maybe, you know. I thought you might be done with this. Like, your gay trial period is over. The deed has been done.”

Tommy thought so too. He thought so until the moment he was opening Lovett’s bedroom door, but he doesn’t say that out loud. See, he doesn’t _always_ say the dumbest thing at any given moment.

“You want me to leave?” he asks.

“No! No.” Lovett lets out a frustrated sound. “That’s not what I was saying.”

“Okay, so if you don’t want me to leave, can we stop talking and go to sleep?”

“Fine,” Lovett mumbles.

Tommy rolls onto his back and adjusts the pillow under his head. “Good night, Jon.”

After a long second Lovett says, voice small, “Good night, Tommy.”

\-----

The next night he doesn’t go into Lovett’s room. He doesn’t a single night that week, and he sleeps like shit. Lovett doesn’t say a word about it so Tommy doesn’t either.

By Friday he’s so exhausted he almost nods off in a late afternoon meeting, saved only by Aisha kicking him under the table. Afterwards Ben takes him aside.

“How about you head home, Tommy?”

“I can stay,” Tommy says, cheeks starting to heat up. “It’s fine, I can rally-”

“Hey. Go home. No offense, Tommy, but I don’t want you talking to reporters right now. You’re tired and you might say something you don’t mean to.”

“I’m always tired. I’m fine.”

Ben raises an eyebrow at him and Tommy forces a weak laugh.

“You know what I mean. I can help finish that statement at least-”

“We got it. I’ll see you Monday.”

“I know my draft was pretty weak, but I had a few ideas-”

“ _Tommy_.” Ben squeezes his shoulders. “Go home and get some rest. It’s been a long week and I want you fresh on Monday.”

Tommy looks away, embarrassed. Has he been putting in shit work all week? He didn’t think so.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll be on email, just let me know.”

“Will do. Send me those ideas if you want.”

Shit. Tommy didn’t really have any ideas, he just wanted Ben to let him stay. He nods and slowly starts to pack up his stuff.

Lovett has some gala and won’t be home til late, and Tommy knows they’re out of booze, so he stops at a bar on the way home. It’s buzzing, packed full, and it takes him ten minutes to find an empty barstool and get his whiskey. He’s squinting at his phone, trying really hard not to let his eyes close, when a girl slides onto the stool next to him.

Tommy looks up and she looks back, smiling after a second. She’s pretty. “Hi,” she says.

“Hey.” Tommy peeks at his phone and slips it in his pocket.

She squints at him. “I know you, don’t I? You’re with the NSC.”

Tommy’s pretty sure this is how spy movies start, but he’s too tired to evade the question.

“Yeah,” he says. “I don’t, uh- who are you with?”

“I work at HHS. We were at that meeting together last week. About border stuff.”

“Oh yeah.” He doesn’t remember but he nods. “I’m Tommy.”

“Jenny.”  

“Nice to meet you. Or- see you again, I guess.”

She huffs a laugh and pokes his glass with a finger. “What’re you drinking?”

Tommy lifts his glass. “Whiskey. I don’t know. I just needed the fastest way to get alcohol into my system.”

“Rough week, huh?”

“Not terrible. But long.”

“Yeah, me too.” She sighs and leans against the bar. Her shirt’s unbuttoned and Tommy can see the top of her bra.

He shifts on the stool and says, “Can I get you something? We could drink together.”

She bites her lip in a smile. “Yeah, thank you. Vodka-tonic.”

“You got it.”

\-----

His phone starts buzzing when he’s unlocking the apartment door. Jenny’s behind him, a hand on his back, laughing at Tommy struggling with the keys. They each had a couple more drinks.

The texts are from Lovett.

_Okay this thing has an open bar and I think I am accidentally drunk._

_If POTUS knows Im drunk am I getting fired? Will I go to jail???_

_Just made Favs tkae a shot. If we go down we’re going down together._

_Where are you?? We might go out after this you shoudl come_

Tommy reads them all quickly and then looks up as Jenny curls a hand around the back of his neck. He drops his phone on the counter.

“Hey,” she says. She smells good, warm, and Tommy can see right down the front of her shirt, like she’s undone a couple more buttons on the way home. All of a sudden he’s hungry for her, blood heating up. He hasn’t felt that way in a while. It feels good.

“Hey,” he says, sliding his hands up her body, cupping her chest. “You wanna see my room?”

She laughs like she thinks he’s cute. “Nice line.”

Tommy grins with his tongue between his teeth. “I thought so. Usually works.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a dick.” She’s grinning right back, though. “Fine, show me your room.”

Tommy laughs into another kiss and walks her backwards out of the kitchen.

Jenny’s hot and eager and she gets loud when she’s on top of him. It’s enough to keep Tommy from thinking about anything else and it’s such a fucking relief. Afterwards they lie there quietly for a while, until she gets up to use the bathroom and Tommy goes out to the kitchen to get his phone and a glass of water.

When he gets back she’s in bed, wearing his t-shirt and flicking through the book about Russia on his nightstand.

“Oh, are you- did you want to, uh, stay over?” he says, stumbling through it like an idiot. Luckily she just laughs.

“Yeah, kinda,” she says, drawing her knees up under the covers, looking up at him. “Is that cool? It’s pretty late.”

“Of course. Totally.” Tommy hands her the water. He checks his phone. No new messages. “I’ll just go, uh, brush my teeth and stuff.”

She gives him a smile and goes back to the book, flipping a page.

In bed she settles against his front and sighs. Lovett never does that. Sometimes they end up that way in the morning, bodies pressed together, but he never seeks it out. He always keeps his distance, like he thinks Tommy’ll leave if he gets too close. Tommy swallows hard, and shuts his eyes.

\-----

He wakes up to the slam of his door shutting.

“What the fuck?” Jenny gasps. She’s sitting up in bed next to him, clutching the duvet to her bare chest. “I think someone broke in!”

“Huh?” Tommy mumbles. The clock on his nightstand says 1:15 AM.

“Someone- someone came into your room!” Jenny claps a hand over her heart, letting out a nervous laugh. “Some guy, he opened the door and started like getting into bed-”

“It was probably just my roommate. It’s okay.”

“Your roommate comes into your room in the middle of the night?”

“He was probably just- drunk or something.”

“You need a new roommate. Or at least a new lock for your door. That’s seriously creepy.”

“It’s no big deal. It’s nothing, it’s-” Tommy climbs out of bed, feeling dizzy. “Go back to sleep, okay? I’m just gonna make sure he’s okay.”

“Wait, I don’t want to be alone-”

“Just go back to sleep,” Tommy repeats, slipping out of the door.

There’s a light on under Lovett’s door. Tommy stops, biting his lip. When he knocks, the light turns off.

“Jon,” Tommy says softly through the door. “Hey. Everything okay?”

No response. Tommy tips his forehead against the door.

“Lovett,” he says, low. “Hey.”

He reaches down for the doorknob, and it turns under his hand. He opens the door quietly.

“Lovett?” he says into the dark.

Silence. Too much silence. Tommy can practically feel Lovett holding his breath. In the light from the hallway Tommy can see a lump under the covers.

“Jon,” he says again, feeling like an idiot. “ _Jon._ ”

The covers shift and then Lovett says, razor-sharp and wide awake, “What?”

“Everything okay? Did you just- um, do you need something?”

Silence again. Then Lovett says, “I’m sleeping, Tommy.”

“How was, uh, how was the thing? Did you guys go out after?”

“I’m fucking _sleeping_ ,” Lovett snaps. “Go away.”

Tommy shuts his eyes in the dark. Fuck.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he says. “Good night.”

Nothing. Tommy turns away.

Jenny’s asleep when he gets back. He eases his door softly shut behind him and stands there watching her for a second before he crawls back into bed.

The next day he doesn’t see Lovett until the afternoon, when he comes in through the front door with grocery bags and headphones on. Tommy wasn’t even sure if he was in the apartment or not.

“Hey,” Tommy says. Lovett doesn’t look up, so Tommy reaches for an earbud. “ _Hey_.”

Lovett jerks away and gives him a look. He takes his headphones out. “What?”

Tommy stalls, feeling dumb. He didn’t actually have anything to say. “Uhh, how was the thing last night?”

“Fine.” Lovett gives him a tight smile and puts his headphones back in.

“Did you go out after?”

Lovett points at his headphones and starts pulling food out of the bags. His face is red, mouth tight. Tommy knows there’s no use when he gets in a mood like this, so he leaves him alone.

\-----

Lovett’s barely spoken two words to him by Thursday, so Tommy stops leaving him alone. He takes his lunch early and catches him outside Jon’s office in the hall, laptop under one arm.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Lovett says stiffly, making a move to go around him. Tommy steps in front.

“Can we talk?”

Lovett stops. “What?”

“What’s going on with you?”

“I need to get some work done, Tommy, can you-” he tries and fails to sidestep him again. “ _Tommy_. Are you fucking three years old?”

“Oh- oh that’s rich. Coming from you. You’re the one giving me the silent treatment.”

“I am not!”

They both look down the hallway when Sarah sticks her head out and glares, putting her finger to her mouth. Lovett tries to leave but Tommy catches his arm.

“Hey,” Tommy says, lowering his voice. “I thought we agreed we weren’t gonna get weird about- stuff. About you know, what happened.”

Lovett’s face flushes immediately. “I’m not.”

“It kinda feels like things are getting weird.”

“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way. But I’m fine. I’m just busy. And you’re not fucking letting me go finish my work.”

“Jon-“ Tommy sighs. He’s so fucking stubborn. “Okay, fine.”

Lovett sniffs hard and ducks out from under Tommy’s arm. “Okay, great. Glad we had this little talk.”

“Wait.”

“God, _what_.” Lovett stops, hugging his laptop to his chest. “What?”

“Are we cool?”

Lovett looks back at him, forcing a smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” Lovett nods and turns away. “We’re cool, Tommy.”  

\-----

Tommy guesses they are cool, because Favs invites him to lunch in the Mess the week after and Lovett is there. Maybe that’s a pretty low standard, but Tommy’ll take what he can get.

He’s just unwrapping his turkey on wheat when Jon says, “So here I thought I was gonna get a chance to breathe after the Correspondents’ Dinner, but now I have to work on _hiring_ all summer, because _someone_ decided to-”

“I gave you three months!” Lovett protests. “Come on.”

Tommy looks up, chewing a bite.   

“When’s your last day again?” Cody asks.

“September 1st. Give or take.”

“Your last day?” Tommy says. Lovett catches eyes with him and then looks down. “What do you mean?”

“Ooh, you didn’t tell Tommy yet?” Jon says, eyebrows raising. “He’s gonna need a new roommate, you know.”

“I was going to. Thanks, Jon.”

“Sorry,” Jon laughs.  

“Three months warning on a new roommate is pretty solid, though,” Cody says, slurping his coffee. “You’ll be fine.”

“A new- wait, are you leaving?” Tommy stares at him but Lovett won’t look back. “Where are you going?”

“He’s moving to LA to get famous,” Jon says mournfully. “The White House isn’t good enough for him anymore.”

“I’m not- shut up.” Lovett steals a handful of french fries off Jon’s plate.

“Dude!”

“Are you really leaving?” Tommy knows his voice sounds weird but he can’t help it.

Finally Lovett looks at him.

“Yeah, in September,” he says, putting his chin up stubbornly. “I’ve been talking to some producers in LA.”

Tommy can tell he’s supposed to say something so he grits out, “Wow. Good for you.”

Cody raises a quizzical eyebrow at Tommy. “He’s gonna go make a TV show. Right, Lovett? Will you put me in it?”

“You wish, Keenan. Yeah, I’ll put you in it and kill you off right away.” Lovett snorts. “How do you want to die?”

“Oh fuck you.”  

Tommy looks back down at his sandwich. He knows how to do this, he knows how to make himself numb until the workday is over, but it’s harder than usual. He didn’t see this one coming. Jon and Cody are babbling now, about how they’re gonna make POTUS watch Lovett’s show so he better be careful what he says. Lovett’s mostly quiet. When Tommy glances up Lovett darts his eyes away.

“Okay,” Tommy says, interrupting them, pushing his chair back. “I better get back to it.”

“You gonna finish that?” Jon asks, pointing at his sandwich.

“No, go for it.” Tommy hands it over and Jon digs in. “See you later.”

\-----

He leaves work at six and starts to unravel as he walks to the train. It reminds him of the worst days last year, when as soon as he walked out of the White House he started to sob- so hard he almost doubled over, so hard he couldn’t breathe at all. The first time it happened he thought he was having a seizure or a heart attack or something. He almost called 911.

He’s more practiced now, though, and he doesn’t crack until he’s out of the train and walking home. By the time he’s outside the apartment he’s breathing so hard and so fast it’s making him lightheaded, and his eyes are starting to leak. He stops and leans against the wall, trying to steady himself. He can’t go upstairs like this. Lovett can’t see him like this. He digs for his phone with shaky hands.

 _Ru at the apartment_ he sends to Lovett.

Lovett texts back fast. _No. Still at work probably until late. What’s up?_

Thank God. Tommy pushes himself off the wall and unlocks the door of their building. On the way up the stairs he taps out _Nothing can you get milk on your way home though_

It’s too quiet inside so he turns on the TV and opens a beer and never makes it to the couch. Instead he stands at the kitchen counter, hands pressed against it, and takes deep breaths, staving it off. He could go for a run but he doesn’t want to. He could text Lovett again, he could say _Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you fucking asshole,_  but what’s the point in that? Lovett’s still going to leave. It feels horribly inevitable, looming before him, another fucking thing Tommy’ll have to deal with. And Lovett didn’t even _tell_ him. Jesus.

Tommy picks up his phone and opens a text to that girl from the weekend before. Jenny.

_Free tonight? Want to come over?_

He hits send and his knee starts jiggling anxiously. If he were a girl he wouldn’t respond to that weak shit. But soon enough she texts back.

_Out with work ppl until like 8. After?? :)_

_Sounds good,_  he sends back, and then his address. There. Now at least there’s something to wait for. He puts his phone down and goes to take a shower.

\-----

“Should we go to your room?” Jenny murmurs against his ear. They’re on the couch and she has her hand in his boxers, stroking him slowly.

“In a minute,” Tommy says, sucking in a shaky breath. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”

She laughs. “You like that, huh?”

“Fuck yes.”

“You wanna fuck me?”

“Yeah, god,” Tommy moans. He does. He wants to be buried in her and fucking blind from it.

“You wanna feel me?” she whispers, lower, pressing up against him. She lifts her little skirt so Tommy can feel the heat of her through her silky panties, legs around his thigh. “I’m so fucking wet. You were so good last time.”

Tommy pulls her head down to kiss him. She moans, rolling her hips against his leg, and then lifts her head and says, hushed, “Is that-”

The door’s opening. Tommy goes perfectly still, fisting his hand in Jenny’s shirt as she curses and pulls her skirt down. His heart’s racing in anticipation, waiting for it to land. He’s a terrible person but he’s doing it anyway.

Lovett comes in, huffing a sigh, and stops dead when he catches sight of them. He’s carrying a Trader Joe’s bag.

“Oh,” he says, looking away. “Sorry, I- sorry. Sorry.”

“No worries,” Tommy says. Jenny’s laughing into his neck, hiding her face. “We were just about to go to my room. Sorry.”

Lovett drops the grocery bag with a thud and disappears down the hall to his room.

Jenny lifts her head, still laughing.

“Is that the guy who tried to get in your bed?” she whispers. Tommy ignores her, reaching down to pull up his boxers.

“Tommy?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, sliding out from under her. “Go, um, go in my room, I’ll be in in a minute.”

He picks up the Trader Joe’s bag. There’s a carton of 2% and a pack of hot dogs and some of that chipotle hummus Tommy likes and Lovett hates. Shit. Tommy puts it all in the fridge and goes quietly to his room. He doesn’t really feel like it anymore, but Jenny’s waiting for him.

\-----

“Oh what the _fuck_ , Lovett,” Tommy says through his teeth. His wet clothes are in a heap on top of the rumbling washer, even though Tommy’s only like twenty minutes late to put them in the dryer. It’s the third time it’s happened in two weeks.

Tommy finds Lovett on the couch glaring at an old episode of Seinfeld. He finds the remote and clicks it off.

“Excuse me?” Lovett says, looking up at him.

“Stop messing with my clothes, Lovett. Seriously. I have to work tomorrow.”

“I’m not gonna wait around for you to remember six hours later that you had laundry in-”

“It was like ten minutes!”

“It was longer than ten minutes.”

“No it-” Tommy groans. “If you’re mad at me don’t take it out on my fucking laundry. Fucking passive-aggressive dick.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

Tommy laughs loudly. “Bullshit.”

“You wear the same outfit every day, Tommy, it’s not like anyone’s gonna notice if your khakis are a little wrinkled. Relax.”

“You know what?” Tommy asks, face starting to heat up. “You’re not as fucking funny as you think you are. Sometimes you’re actually just a dick.”

“Oh, that really hurts coming from you, Tommy. Funniest person I know.”

“You ever think people aren’t always laughing _with_ you? You ever think of that?”

Lovett lets out a shocked laugh. “Oh, yeah, no, I _never_ thought of that, Tommy. I never thought of that when I got locked in a fucking recycling bin in 8th grade. I just thought, oh, they’re laughing _with_ me!”

“Jesus, how long do you think you’re gonna play that card? You work at the fucking White House, Lovett. You’re about to go to LA and get fucking famous. Stop acting like you’re still some loser in the 8th grade.”

Lovett stares at him, eyes huge. He draws in a shuddering breath. “You’re- you’re exactly who I thought you were. Wow.”

“And who’s that?”

“An asshole,” Lovett chokes. “A fucking douchebag who thinks he’s God’s gift to the world.”

“Oh yeah, that’s me. You got me, bro. You fucking nailed it.”

“Yeah I did, _bro_. You’re so predictable.”

“I guess we’re both predictable then.”

Lovett’s eyes narrow. After a second he says, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, _Lovett_ , let’s talk about it. You said you could keep this whole thing casual. No big deal. Remember?”

“I am,” Lovett says through a clenched jaw.

“C’mon.”

“ _What_? What are you even talking about? Make a fucking point, Tommy.”

Tommy hates when he plays dumb. He can’t stand it.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t been acting all- all weird and jealous since we had sex.”

Lovett’s face is beet red now. “I have not.”

“You sure about that?”

“I’m not jealous,” Lovett chokes out. “You’re just fucking self-obsessed. You think everyone’s in love with you.”

He has Tommy so fucking wrong. If Tommy could be _anyone_ else he would. Anyone. Lovett doesn’t get it at all. It makes Tommy so mad his chest hurts.

“You don’t know me,” he says, making himself laugh. “You really don’t. That’s probably why you-”

He stops.

“Why I what,” Lovett says, voice breaking.

“I don’t know, Lovett. Maybe you should ask yourself why you’re really leaving DC.”

Lovett looks gobsmacked. “You- you think it’s because of _you_? You think I’d leave the fucking White House because of you? Are you kidding me?”

“I’m just saying, the timing’s a little-”

“You don’t matter to me that much, Tommy,” Lovett spits. “Maybe that’s your problem, you always think you matter to people and you don’t. Maybe that’s why you’re still so fucking pathetic about Katie. She’s moved on, Tommy, why can’t you?”

Tommy almost hits him. It rises hot inside him but he manages to turn and slam his fist against the wall instead. Lovett goes silent and still on the couch.

“ _Fuck_ you,” Tommy says blindly, hitting his hand again. “Fuck you. Fuck you.”

“Fucking psycho,” Lovett says shakily.

Tommy puts his head against the wall, right where he just hit. He’s going to cry. Shit.

“Get out,” he says.

“This is my apartment too.”

“Fucking _leave_ ,” Tommy chokes. “Get the fuck out.”

“You can’t just tell me what to do-”

“Please.” Tommy gasps a breath. “God, please, Jon, just leave me alone.”

He keeps his face pressed against the wall until he hears Lovett’s footsteps out of the room, and then he retreats to his bedroom and locks the door. After a while he hears the apartment door shut and he lets out a long, shaking breath.  

It’s hard to remember, sometimes, how to get out of it when he feels trapped. It’s hard to remember what to do. He turns on the TV, cranks the volume up and stares numbly at the screen until his phone buzzes on the couch next to him. It’s a text from Jon.

_Hey just so you know Lovett’s going to stay over here, we’re working late!_

Tommy swallows hard. Yeah fucking right. It’s a Saturday night and Lovett’s next draft isn’t due for two weeks. Jon’s a bad liar even over text.

He squints at his phone before he taps out, _“Working late” lol ok Jon. Sure._

His phone rings immediately. Tommy sighs and picks it up, muting the TV. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jon says, sounding like he’s chewing. “Don’t be pissed at me. You sounded pissed in your text.”

“Is Lovett there?”

“Yeah, he’s in the shower.” Jon crunches another bite. “What’s going on with you guys?”

“What’d he say?”

“Nothing. He’s just being dramatic. And he drank all my beer.”

Tommy chews his lip. “How’s he being dramatic?”

“I don’t know, man. Just like moping. Did you guys get in another fight?”

“What do you mean, _another fight_? When was the first fight?”

“Oh, you’re always fighting.” Jon sighs heavily. “About something or other. And then you make me be in the middle, which I hate.”

Tommy stops. “Wait, are you- drunk?”

Jon hiccups a laugh. “We had a few drinks.”

Tommy thinks about Lovett having a few more and getting drunk enough to tell Jon what happened. What Tommy did and said. He sucks in a breath and says, “Make sure he’s okay. Don’t let him drink any more.”

“Oh, he’s totally fine. We just had a couple beers.”

“Still. Just- be careful.”

“Okay, Tommy.” Jon sighs. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on. We’re just- it’s just. Dumb. Roommate stuff.” Tommy rubs his face with his hand. “It’s no big deal.”

“Is it about him leaving? Like, are you pissed about having to get a new roommate?”

Tommy’s throat clenches tight. Jon keeps talking.

“You know, I think Mike’s lease is up in October, you should talk to him. He might be looking for something. Or send out an email to the team, I bet they’ll know someone.”

Suddenly he can’t stand the sound of Jon’s voice. “Okay. Okay. I will. I have to go, okay?”

“Okay,” Jon says easily.  

“Go have a glass of water.”

“Will do.” He hiccups again and laughs at himself. “Good night, Tom.”

“Night.”

\-----

Spring fades to summer. Lovett makes his departure official: September 1st. Tommy marks it in his calendar, and then works his ass off all summer, sleeps at his desk a few times, goes to the gym almost every day because it’s easier than being stuck in the apartment.

Lovett moves his Xbox into his room. Starts eating meals there, too, slinking out at weird hours with a stack of dirty dishes, eyes sliding past Tommy like he’s not even there. It’s fucking weird. Tommy didn’t realize how much they hung out until they didn’t anymore. It feels like when they were first living together, learning each other, except worse because this time it’s intentional and it’s not going to get better.

At the end of August, Tommy goes on a foreign trip with POTUS that stretches through both his birthday and Lovett’s last day. Alyssa gets him a cake from some fancy bakery in Berlin, the President gives him a hug on Air Force One, his mom leaves a voicemail singing to him, but all Tommy wants is to be fucking home. Jon texts him photos of Lovett’s going-away party and Tommy flips through them miserably under three layers of stiff blankets in his over-air-conditioned room in Berlin. When he’s done he opens up a new message to Lovett.

_What day do you leave town_

Lovett doesn’t respond for fourteen hours. Tommy always counts foreign trips in hours. It’s hard to remember when one day ends and another begins.

Finally he sends back, _Sept.10_

Six days after Tommy gets back. He gives Alyssa a weak smile as she passes by with clipboard in hand.

“How you doin’, birthday boy?” she says, grinning. “Are you so fucking ready for this summit?”

“Never been more ready,” Tommy says, forcing a laugh. When she’s gone he looks down again.

_You need help packing and stuff? I get back the 4th_

As soon as he sends it he wishes he could take it back. It’s weird how that works. He spends the next couple hours with his stomach in a knot, not helped by the fact that his task at the summit is basically to sit there and watch. He’s on a coffee run when Lovett responds.

_I don’t need help, I hired movers. And Jon’s taking some stuff for his guest room_

_Do you want to keep my couch_

Tommy puts his phone back in his pocket and keeps walking, faster. He remembers doing all this shit with Katie, the terse impersonal texts, the division of assets. How big it felt in the thick of it and how petty it all seemed afterward, when he wasn’t so heartbroken that every new text made him feel like he’d been punched in the stomach.

 _Sure_ , he sends when he’s waiting for his order. _Thanks. Just let me know how I can help_

Lovett never responds to that one.

\-----

He sleeps for twelve hours when he gets back, staggers out of his room at 8 PM with a headache. Lovett’s in the kitchen making scrambled eggs and toast, which only adds to Tommy’s confusion.

“Hey,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

“Hi.” Lovett stares determinedly at the pan of eggs he’s pushing around with a spoon. “How was the trip?”

“Fine. Pretty boring.”

“You didn’t start a World War by like, using the wrong fork at dinner or something?”

Tommy huffs an obligatory laugh, sliding into a seat at the counter and pulling his phone out of his sweatpants pocket. “Nope. Not this time.”

They’re quiet for a minute. Tommy peeks up from his phone to see Lovett buttering his toast, bottom lip between his teeth. He missed seeing him. Not just this trip, but- this whole summer. It’s been so fucking lonely. Tommy looks back down, steeling himself against that thought.

“How was your last day?” he asks.

“Fine,” Lovett says. “Good. I finished a speech like three hours before I had to leave. The ultimate deadline.”

“Of course.” Tommy laughs, putting his head in his hand. Jon sent him a picture that day, of Lovett teary-eyed and grinning at his empty desk. Tommy looked at it for a long time.

Lovett spoons his eggs onto his toast. He’s shaking on salt when he says, “How was your birthday?”

Tommy’s already made himself forget about it so the question surprises him. Last year he went to see his dad in the hospital and the year before that Katie planned a huge dinner that ended in a fight that left both of them crying. So in comparison, it wasn’t that bad.

“Fine,” he says, shrugging. “Alyssa got me a cake.”

“What kind?”

“Chocolate.”

“Mm.” Lovett sprinkles on some cheese. Tommy watches his hands.

“It was my golden,” he says. “31. On the 31st.”

Lovett looks up. “Wow. You had to wait a while for that, huh?”

Tommy snorts. “Yeah. Pissed me off as a kid.”

Lovett’s mouth twitches in a smile. He holds up the empty pan. “You wanna use this? There’s more eggs in the fridge.”

It’s not much but Tommy still feels grateful. It’s more than he’s been getting all summer.

“Yeah,” he says, sliding off his stool. “Thanks.”

\-----

Lovett’s last night comes up fast. He gets dinner with some friends, gets home at nine and goes right past Tommy on the couch to his room. Tommy’s been sitting there all night, staring at the TV and trying not think about how bare the place looks now that the movers have come through.

He shuts his eyes when Lovett’s door closes and takes a long sip of his beer. When it’s gone he stands up to get another one but decides on the way to pour himself a real drink instead. Screw it.

Sometimes he wonders if it’s the booze that makes him do something, or if he knows what he wants to do and the booze just helps. Either way, he finds himself outside Lovett’s room a half hour later, slowly opening the door.

It’s dark and quiet. Tommy eases the door shut behind him and Lovett sits up in bed.

“Tommy?” he says, a pillow clutched against his chest. “What are you doing? Tommy. _Tommy_.”

“Nothing,” Tommy says, stumbling over one of Lovett’s shoes and catching himself on the dresser. “Just- can I just-”

“No, you can’t.” Lovett’s voice rises. “Tommy, don’t.”

Tommy knees onto the bed. “Don’t- don’t you want to, like- can’t we just do this?”

“No." 

“C’mon,” Tommy says, touching his bare calf, and then his knee, feeling the bones under his fingers. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He can usually talk his way into this but he feels dumb and desperate and the last gulp he took in the kitchen is just hitting him now. “You’re leaving tomorrow.”

“This isn’t your last chance for dick, Tommy,” Lovett says acidly. “There are other guys in DC who are dumb enough to sleep with you.”

“But there’s not-” Tommy doesn’t know how to say it. There’s a balance he has to strike, between the truth, and what’s acceptable to say when Lovett’s leaving in twelve hours. “There’s not. I’m not - I’m not into other guys.”

“I think you might be,” Lovett says, quietly. He draws in a sharp breath when Tommy slides a hand up his shirt. He needs Lovett to not say that right now. “Tommy, god. What are you-”

“Can I kiss you?” Tommy asks. The question makes his face hot. He’s never had to ask like that.

Lovett breathes under him for a minute. Finally he says, voice small, “Yes.”

Tommy leans forward, eases him back into the bed.

He’s just sliding his hand into Lovett’s boxers when Lovett breaks off from the kiss.

“Like this,” he says, breathing heavy. “Just- do it like this.”

Tommy feels him turn over, bracing himself on his elbows. He looks down at him, his skinny back, t-shirt still on but rucked up to his armpits.

“Lovett-”

“Come on,” Lovett says, voice breaking. The back of his neck is flushed hot. “Just do it.”

For a second Tommy almost laughs, remembering how scared he was the first time. How he made Tommy promise he’d stop if he didn’t like it.

“ _Tommy_ ,” Lovett chokes out. “Come on.”

For a minute his body feels foreign underneath Tommy’s, like Tommy’s forgotten what to do. He touches the ridge of Lovett’s spine, flattens his hand against it.

“Fucking do it,” Lovett says. He sounds close to tears.

“I wanna see you,” Tommy says shakily. “I wanna kiss you. Turn over.”

“No.”

“C’mon. Please.”  

“ _No_ ,” Lovett snaps. He shoves Tommy’s hand when Tommy grips his hips and tries to turn him over. “Stop it. Do it or get out.”

His fucking ultimatums. He’s so dramatic. Tommy ducks his head to press his face against Lovett’s back, just for a second. He just needs it. Lovett squirms under him.

“Stop it,” he says. “What are you doing? Come on, just- fuck me, Tommy.”

It sounds so foreign coming out of his mouth. It makes Tommy sad, like he’s done something to Lovett, turned him into this person who asks to get fucked face-down. But he can’t go back and fix that now, and he wants it too, he wants it so bad, so he does it.

The last time it happened with Katie, they both knew it was a bad idea. Tommy started crying during, helplessly, buried his face in her neck until she caught on and shoved him away and said _Jesus Christ, Tommy, stop_. When Tommy couldn’t stop crying she got dressed and left. It seemed cruel at the time but now Tommy’s thankful for it. She always knew how to deal with his bullshit, when not to indulge him. When to cut him off. He thought Lovett knew too, but maybe he didn’t, because there he was underneath Tommy, opening for him. Why do people do this for him? Can’t Lovett just- see who he is?

He tries to focus. What happened with her doesn’t matter anymore. The least he can do is give Lovett something to think about in LA, something good enough to make him hate Tommy a little less. He moves faster, fucks Lovett deep until Lovett’s moaning with each breath, bracing himself on the bed with his hands in fists, head down and back clenched. He likes it so much, Tommy can tell.

Tommy wishes they could keep doing it. He wishes he could give it to Lovett in every way possible, forever, until Lovett doesn’t want anyone else. He almost comes imagining it, Lovett never needing anyone else, and then Lovett whimpers and tightens down on him and Tommy _does_ come, unexpectedly. He shudders through it, gasping, and immediately feels a hot wave of shame.

“Sorry,” he chokes, still shaking, starting to pull out. Lovett has his face down, breathing loud and ragged. “Did you- have you-”

“No,” Lovett says, muffled. He turns his head. “Did you?”

Tommy doesn’t answer that. He just says, “Turn over.”

This time Lovett obeys. His dick is so hard and he looks wild-eyed and desperate. Tommy scrambles backwards off the bed and pulls Lovett forward til his feet hit the floor.

“What are you-”

“Shh,” Tommy breathes, putting his thumbs in the hollows of Lovett’s hips. He swallows hard and leans forward.

“ _Tommy_ ,” Lovett says, panicky. “Tommy, what are you doing.”

Tommy grips his dick with one hand before he puts his mouth on it, licking just the head. Lovett curses and his hips rise off the bed. Tommy has to grab his cock again, press his forearm across Lovett’s belly so he’ll stay put. He tries again, taking a little more this time.

“You don’t have to-” Lovett’s voice rises. “Tommy, you don’t have to, please-”

He shuts up when Tommy slides his mouth down. Tommy doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing but he tries to make it good, gauges it from how hard Lovett’s breathing. When he starts moving his hand too, stroking and twisting, Lovett tenses up under him and starts to moan. Tommy licks the head, licks where his hand is touching, licks and kisses and sucks until Lovett gasps and starts shaking, spilling hot and salty over Tommy’s mouth and cheek. Tommy ducks his head and scrubs at his face with his hand, trying to catch his breath.

“What the fuck,” Lovett says weakly. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“I’m sorry,” Tommy mumbles. His throat’s burning.

“You have-” Lovett reaches out and touches Tommy’s wet jaw, fingers shaking. Tommy rubs it off with his hand. He can’t look into Lovett’s eyes. He can taste him in his mouth, smell him everywhere. What the hell did he just do?  

Lovett pulls his boxers up. “I’m not leaving because of you,” he says, in a small voice.

Christ, why is he saying that now? Why now? When Tommy’s still on his knees?

“I know.”

“I’ve been planning to leave since the beginning. I knew I didn’t want to do this forever. I want- I want to do comedy, I don’t want to be stuck in fucking DC for the rest of my life writing the same bullshit speeches over and over again.”

“I know,” Tommy says again, numbly. He does. He knows. Lovett’s so good he can do this for a while and then leave and go on to something else. He’s so good the White House can be a fucking footnote on his resume. Tommy’s gonna do this forever, slave away in DC forever, until he gets fired or has a nervous breakdown, whichever comes first.

“So don’t think it has anything to do with you.”

“Jesus, Lovett, I know.” Tommy staggers back on his knees and then upright. He needs to be standing up for this conversation. “I know. I don’t matter to people, right? I remember.”

“If you’re expecting me to apologize, I’m not going to.”

“I’m not.” Tommy laughs bitterly. “Trust me. I know you well enough not to wait on an apology.”

Lovett looks up at him, eyes burning.

“Maybe you don’t know me at all. Ever thought of that?”

“I know you,” Tommy says, trying to keep calm. He’s not gonna let Lovett do that, say the mean stuff just because he’s mad. “I know you. Don’t do that.”

“What do you think you know?”

“Lovett, please- please. Can we just not be mad at each other? You’re leaving tomorrow.” Tommy’s voice breaks. “I’m so fucking tired of being mad at each other." 

"You don't control when I'm mad and when I'm not."

“I know. Just- come here.” Tommy crawls back into bed, pulls Lovett’s face to his and kisses him. He tries to keep it gentle but Lovett opens his mouth and then Tommy rolls on top of him and it gets hot and deep, neither of them pulling away, gasping against each other.

Finally Lovett turns his head, breaking away, and reaches up to wipe his mouth. “You taste-“

“Sorry,” Tommy says, flushing.

Lovett just puts his head back, looking up at the ceiling. He swallows hard. His hair’s a mess and his mouth is swollen. Tommy can’t stop looking.

“I have to be up in-“ he looks over at his clock. “Fuck. Like seven hours.”

“What time is your flight?”

“Ten.” Lovett scrubs both hands over his face. “I need to sleep, Tommy.”

“Can I, um, can I stay?“

Lovett shakes his head, face still covered. He drops his hands and looks at him.

“Don’t - don’t make it hard,” he says, jaw clenching. “Don’t make it weird. Right? We’re not supposed to make this weird.”

They’re so far past that. Tommy thinks they are at least. He stays still until Lovett gently pushes him away.

“Come on,” he says. “Go to bed.”

“Don’t be mad at me,” Tommy says dumbly. “For everything. Just tell me you’re not mad at me.”

Lovett sits up in bed and Tommy stumbles back.

“I’m not mad,” he says. He has this look on his face that’s infuriating. It’s like he can see right through to the part of Tommy that’s desperate for him to stay. It’s like he knows more about Tommy than Tommy does. Tommy hates it and he craves it at the same time, he wants more of it. He wants to be known like that. He leans forward for another kiss and Lovett puts a hand on his chest.

“Go to bed,” he says, firm now. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Jon-“

“Just let me sleep, Tommy.” 

Tommy climbs off the bed. His knees ache and his mouth tastes sour.

“Good night,” he says at the door. When he looks back Lovett is still sitting up, still watching him. In the light from the hall he looks so tired. Tommy wonders if he's tired of DC or of Tommy. It doesn't really matter, he guesses. The end result is the same. 

“Good night, Tommy,” he says. He holds the blanket tight to him and smiles, eyes hollow. “Close the door.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**2018**

Tommy stays close to home for his bachelor party, doesn’t do the whole over the top destination thing like Hanna. Jon rents a place in Santa Monica, a stupidly big place with floor-to-ceiling windows that open right onto the beach, and they go and get drunk and eat good food for two days. It’s pretty fucking great.

Lovett has a show and can’t come until late Friday night, so they’re all pretty wasted when he gets there. Jon yells when Lovett opens the door, runs to give him a hug, and Andy and Shomik follow until Tommy can’t even see Lovett under the pile of drunken dudes.

Finally he emerges, adjusting his glasses and looking shell-shocked. He catches sight of Tommy and Tommy waves, not getting up from the couch. They ate edibles before dinner and it’s still hitting Tommy hard.

“The man of the hour,” Lovett says, coming over to him. “How ya doin’, Tommy?”

“So good,” Tommy says, smiling up at him. “How was the show?”

“Good. Funny. How fucked up are you?”

“Lovett!” Jon says, wrapping his arms around him from behind. “You want a drink? Come have a drink!”

“Uhh, sure,” Lovett says, laughing. He lets Jon guide him away and Tommy shuts his eyes, exhaling. He lies there peacefully until Derek comes and shakes his shoulder.

“Yo,” he says. “We’re going swimming, c’mon.”

“We’re gonna _drown_ ,” Tommy says without opening his eyes. He starts laughing. “We’re gonna fucking drown.”

Derek scrubs the top of his head with his knuckles. “No one’s gonna drown, bro. Come on.”

They don’t drown. They stay close to shore, everyone except for Lovett, who sits in the sand watching quietly and scrolling through his phone. Finally Tommy stumbles up the sand to sit down next to him.

“Hey,” he says, reaching for Lovett’s glass of wine. Lovett evades him easily.

“It’s like fucking Baywatch down there,” Lovett says, amused. He sounds sober. Why the fuck is he sober?

“Enjoying the view?”

Lovett rolls his eyes and scoots away, sipping his wine.

“You should be drunker,” Tommy says, nudging the bottom of Lovett’s wine glass so he has to take a deeper sip. Lovett gives him a look over the rim. “C’mon, Jon. You’re killing the vibe.”

“How am I killing the vibe?”

“You’re not _swimming_ , you’re not _drinking_ -“

“I am drinking!”  

“You know what I mean.” Tommy laughs and flops down on his back. “What _do_ I mean?”

“I have no idea.”

“I’m fucking crossfaded.” Tommy digs his fingers into the sand. “I feel good.”

“Well, good.” Lovett breathes a laugh. “Don’t forget we have work on Monday.”

Tommy groans, and then goes quiet.

“Hey,” he says, staring up at the sky. “Remember when we hooked up?”

It feels strange and daring to say out loud. Tommy’s pretty sure they haven’t talked about it in- years. Maybe since it happened. But tonight he’s drunk and it’s hard not to remember that they have this weird thing between them. Sometimes it feels so obvious he almost starts laughing at the absurdity of not acknowledging it. Sometimes he forgets for months at a time and then Lovett says or does something that brings it all back.

Lovett’s gone stiff next to him. After a minute he says, “No, remind me.”

“Ha ha.”

“Why would you even-” Lovett lets out an unamused laugh. “Feeling nostalgic, Tommy?”

“It’s just- you know what, it’s cool that we’re friends. That we’re still- you know, colleagues. And friends. I mean, I don’t really talk to anyone else I’ve hooked up with. Especially someone whose virginity I-”

“God, Tommy, shut up,” Lovett says, cutting him off.

“Hey, it was my first time too. First time for a lot of stuff.”

“First and last,” Lovett says wryly.  

They watch each other for a minute.  

“I’m glad it was me,” Tommy says into the silence. For some reason it feels important to say right then. “For your first time. Not just some random asshole.”

Lovett looks away, a sour little smile curving up the edge of his mouth. “Yeah, I chose a very specific asshole.”

“C’mon, don’t be mean. I wasn’t an asshole.” It was a long time ago, and he’s worked hard to forget a lot about back then, but he remembers the actual event pretty clearly. They both had fun, he remembers that. Lovett didn’t regret it, at least not at first.

“I know, Tommy.” Lovett sighs. “I know you weren’t.”

“I was nice. It was- nice.”

He’s getting nostalgic about that time now, even though it was horrible. Even though every day felt like a fucking marathon. He remembers being so tired he fell asleep on the train and missed his stop. He remembers being so fucking mad at the world, so furious, that he had to leave a meeting and go into the bathroom and dig his face into his cupped hands until it hurt.

And he remembers coming home to Lovett, every night. Lovett quiet and hard at work, Lovett antsy and distracting him with annoying questions, Lovett exhausted and snappish. All of it. Tommy remembers seeing all of him. Sometimes he doesn’t think he sees that anymore, like Lovett closed off certain parts to him, pulled away when Tommy wasn’t looking. Maybe that’s just growing up.

“You were nice,” Lovett says quietly. He looks away. “I’m pretty tired. I think I’m gonna go inside.”

Tommy nods slowly. “Did Jon show you your room?”

“Yeah, it’s nice.”

Tommy’s room is nice too. It has an incredible view and a huge, soft bed. Tommy thinks for a split second about going up there later and finding Lovett in that bed, waiting for him. Only for a second, and then his brain doesn’t let him go any further, doesn’t let him add any detail. He looks away, at the water, trying not to feel scared. It’s just been a long time since he had a thought like that.

Lovett starts to push himself up and then stops, mouth working in that way he does when he wants to say something he probably shouldn’t.

“Hey, Tommy,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Did you ever tell Hanna? About, uh, what happened with us?”

Tommy looks over at him.

“Not that it matters,” Lovett adds hastily. “Just wondering.”

“No,” Tommy says. “We never really did that whole talk, about who we’ve been with. I mean except for like, the big ones.”  

Lovett’s eyes flicker and he smiles tightly. “Right,” he says. “Makes sense. Good night, Tommy. See you tomorrow.”

He stands up and makes his way up the beach. Tommy looks up at the sky, blinking a couple times. He can’t help but feel he messed something up right then, though he can’t think of what. It’s the same uneasy feeling he had back in DC right after they slept together. That moment on the sofa when Lovett looked at him with his face soft, completely unguarded, and Tommy’s stomach sunk like a stone.

Tommy hasn’t thought about that in a long time. There’s so much he’s put aside, put away because he doesn’t need it anymore. Because it’s not who he is anymore. He thought Lovett had done the same, but maybe not.

Someone yells for him so he shakes off that thought, drains Lovett’s wine and sets the glass down. That’s the best thing he’s learned since he left DC, how not to hold onto stuff for so long. How to let go before it gets too heavy. Sometimes Tommy thinks all of it was worth it, just so he could learn that.

**Author's Note:**

> title from a stevie nicks song.  
> give to me your leather/take from me my lace 
> 
> i am at podsaveoursouls on tumblr if you want to say hi!


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